Home Sweet Home?
by Mulitfandom
Summary: Non-powered AU but creatures are still out there Sam and Dean are left at a motel while dad's on a hunt. But it's been three weeks now and no sign of him. CPS catches on and brings in the boys. Steve and Tony are a married couple with four adopted kids and waiting to sign the papers on a fifth. Surely they can't take the brothers in? Who the hell can handle seven kids?
1. Chapter 1

For someone who claimed to work with children, his office was a dud. Dean nonchalantly examined the office of beige walls, stacks of paper three feet high and a computer that looked like it hadn't been upgraded since 1992.

"Alright Dean," a man opened the door, looking intently at a file as he made his way to a cluttered desk Dean was currently resting his feet on. "My name is Sam Wilson and I'll be your case worker!" The man looked up from the papers as he sat down, extending his hand towards the teenager.

Dean scoffed and continued to glance around the room, ignoring the man.

Unfazed, the man, Mr. Wilson, took back his hand and continued to read the file. "The police found you and your brother at a motel a few miles from here. Is it just the two of you?" Mr Wilson questioned. Dean has to admit, either he's one hell of an actor, or he actually gives a crap about the answer.

"Nah, we got my dad." Dean replied smoothly. "In fact he's probably wondering where we are, so if you don't mind wrapping this up, we got a motel room to get back to." The thirteen year old stood up, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

"Not so fast." The man stood up, extending an arm. "Your brother's sleeping right now, there's no need to wake him just yet."

Dean paused at the door. Damn. Guy had a point.

Seeing the boy hesitate, Mr. Wilson continued. "We're just trying to make sure the two of you are safe. Is that so bad? I just want to ask you a couple of questions. If everything checks out I'll drive you back to your room myself."

Dean sighed and dropped his hand from the doorknob. He's been through this a hundred times before in different states. Observant people noticing how often dad's gone, how he sometimes comes to school in gashes and bruises, and once an especially observant woman noticed how Dean was caring a little bit _too_ _much_ for Sam than he should've been.

"Look," Dean started, turning to face the man, "I get it. You see two brothers alone and you immediately think the worst. But a)I'm 18, I can take care of my brother when our dad is working, and b)our dad is gonna be home any minute. He only left on a business trip. So thanks, but no thanks."

Dean turned back to leave when Mr. Wilson rounded his desk slowly.

"We know your father hasn't been back in almost three weeks. That's not a business trip. And your brother already told us that you're thirteen. That's not old enough to take care of yourself yet, let alone a nine year old." The man reached out and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I really do just want to help."

Dean shook the hand off him, but didn't leave just yet.

"It's been longer than he said it would be, I'll give you that. But he always comes back." The boy admitted quietly. "I swear it's for work, he usually leaves us with enough money and he's not gone for longer than a week at a time." Dean had his eyes closed. Fighting off the knee jerk reaction to run. This is wrong. Never trust the law, they're ignorant. But something about the man and the situation just made sense to reveal the half truth.

"He usually leaves enough money. Is that why you were caught taking the peanut butter? Because you ran out of money for food?" Mr Wilson inquired, sitting on a stool beside the door.

Dean nodded slightly.

"Sam finished off the rest of the cereal yesterday and was complaining he was hungry. Can't let the poor kid starve." Dean ran a hand down his face, exhausted. He hadn't properly slept since dad left, always watching and protecting Sammy, even when he slept.

"That sounds really stressful. Having to take care of your little brother and not know how you're gonna feed him or what's going on with your dad." Dean snorted slightly. "You don't say."

Mr Wilson leaned toward Dean, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then let me help. Let me make sure you two get three square meals, a roof over your heads, someone to take responsibility for feeding and clothing you so you don't have to. At least until your dad comes back."

Dean opened his eyes then, looking at the man offering to help, the man that had such expressive eyes that convade nothing but compassion. Dean sighed. And, pushing the voice of his dad aside, accepted.

"We stay together. No matter what. I know how you guys like to split up siblings and imma tell you right now that ain't gonna fly." Dean poked the man's chest, accentuating his point. "You even mention us going separate places and we'll be gone before you know it, and I promise you you'll never find us again."

Mr Wilson smiled, then stuck out his hand. "Sounds like a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

"What's this about Phil?" Steve asked as he, his husband Tony and Ex-CPS Agent Phil Coulson sat around an antique desk in his home office. "Did you hear anything about Loki?"  
The agent shook his head. "Unfortunately there's no news with him. Although I have reliable sources in Scandinavia that will inform me if his condition changes."

"Well it's not like we don't love having you over, but why you here then?" Tony was fiddling with his phone as he inquired. He could've been emailing the CEO of his company, designing a masterpiece of technology, or playing candy crush. Either option was equally likely.

Phil dropped two folders on the desk, each with a picture of a child paper clipped to the outside.

"No." Tony's phone was suddenly off and his attention was fully focused on the older man. "No. We told you we can't take anymore. We have six kids right now Phil, we can't!" The engineer turned to his husband for support, but instead he found Steve looking at the pictures with a soft smile.

"They're brothers." Phil explained. "Dean is fourteen, Sam is ten. Said their dad went on a business trip and hadn't been home in a few days. That was a year and a half ago."

"And no other home will take them? Two boys, it can't be that hard to find them a good place to stay!" Tony fought, refusing to look at the pictures. He knew if he saw the kids faces just once, he would cave, but they already had four kids, waiting on the fifth!

"They've already been to eight. The longest they stayed in one was four and a half months. All of those foster parents except one couple are now either in prison, in hospital awaiting prison, or on bail awaiting trial." Phil's eyes glared down Tony's, already knowing those kids were coming here.

"What? What happened?" Steve looked away from the pictures, eyebrows furled in concern.

The balding man removed his glasses and ran a hand down his face. "Abuse. All of them. Only one requested the boys move because they found occult symbols painted under their rugs. Dean said it was for protection, but the couple wanted to exorcise him in return, so we both agreed it best to remove them from the home."

Steve reached for Tony's hand, puppy dog eyes in full force. "Abuse Tony. We can't let them keep going through this!"

"They also refused to be separated. Apparently on threats of violence and disappearance if their case worker even suggests it. There aren't any other places that will take the two of them, you two are their only shot."

Hook, line and sinker.

Tony threw himself back into his chair. "You just had to show him the pictures first didn't you?" He accused Phil. "You know the answer is never no when he sees the pictures."

The older man smiled. "I did say you were their only hope. I'm sure that helped." He stood up and reached for the folders before Steve's hand stopped him.

"Hold on, we're not completely saying yes yet. You know that we need to know their history. Whether or not they'd be a good fit with the other kids."

Coulson sat back down. "Of course. Ask away."

"First," Steve leaned his elbows on the desk, "explain abuse."

"Dean was the one who bore the brunt of it, apparently Sam doesn't even know why they were removed from their past homes. While mostly physical, we speculate sexual as well. Although he fought all the tests so there's no way to know for sure without him telling us and there's no way he'll ever do that. He's tight lipped. Apparently he only ever speaks of the abuse when necessary, but has no problems reporting it to his case worker except for once. That's when they stayed for four and a half months. He didn't report anything the entire time. We only found out about it because Sam was talking about how they went to the beach and Dean swam with his shirt on, tipping off their case worker."

"Why did he say something about the others and not that one?" Tony was now listening intently to the former CPS worker.

"We don't know. He didn't say a single thing on the matter, just completely shut down whenever anyone brings it up."

"Is he in therapy?" Steve asked.

"He was convinced to go after every home, but went through four therapists, three of them quitting before their case worker stopped trying."

"And what about Sam?"

"Aside from codependency with his brother and some abandonment issues from their dad leaving, his therapist and case worker are convinced he's a perfectly happy ten year old kid. Loves reading apparently."

"Hold on," Tony interrupted. "You're retired. Why are you bringing this to us? How do you know so much about this?"

"Their case worker was my protogée, a Mr. Sam Wilson. He consults me from time to time and when I heard about these boys I knew they needed you." The response was smoothly delivered. "Anything else I can answer for you?"

"You mentioned there were threats of violence?" Steve was now looking through one of the files in front of him.

Phil hesitated. "Dean is….well trained. Their dad was a former marine and taught the boys well. He put a couple of his former foster parents into the hospital due to self defence." Phil paused and made sure he had the two men's attention as he continued. "It is my feeling that Dean only uses violence as a defence and would never harm someone that wasn't an active threat. I know you value my opinion so I do not give it lightly. If you fear for the safety of yourselves or your children I completely understand, but know that I believe he would never risk endangering any of the minors in your care."

"Minors. You believe he could pose a threat to us, Thor or Bruce?" Steve's eyes shot up his forehead.

"In all honesty? Only if provoked. Although I do believe Bruce is safe considering his demeanor."

"Steve. We'd be putting people in this house at risk. I know you have a bleeding heart, but love," Tony reached out to his husband. "Do you really think this is the best idea? What about Nat? How do you think she's gonna feel about more men in the house? She just starting to be comfortable talking again and this could set her back. Or Clint! He was abused too and with Deans track record who knows how he'll react."

Steve bit his lip as he thought. "Tony," he started. "We can't just turn them away."

"But putting our children in that situation?"

"So we'll talk to them." Steve turned to Phil. "Can you stay? I'm sure the kids are gonna have questions. If they're okay with it, what do you say my love?" The soldier pleaded with his eyes to his husband. Tony rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

"You might as well pass me those pictures if I'm gonna be fighting for them."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well boys, ninth time's the charm!" Mr Wilson smiled as he opened the car door for the two boys.

"Pfft. Are you sure these guys aren't pervs like the last guys?" Dean slung his bag over his shoulder as he got out, looking over the house in front of them. To be conservative, it was huge. To be able to afford a house this big in New York, the people they were staying with had to be fucking loaded.

"Pervs? What's that?" Sam asked his brother as he climbed out after him.

"Nothing Sammy don't worry about it." The older boy ruffled Sam's hair, laughing at the pout he got in return.

"These guys are the best. I had to pull a lot of strings to get you guys a place here." Mr Wilson started leading them to the house as he talked. "Their names are Steve and Tony, they're married and have adopted four kids already with their hearts set on another one as soon as paperwork goes through."

"Seven of us? They lookin for a big payout on foster checks?" Dean was scanning the house for any obvious signs of danger, not relaxing in the slightest when he didn't see any.

"Their oldest sons are 21 and 18, so don't worry about feeling lost, they'll have plenty of time to focus on the two of you. As for money, trust me, these guys do not need any more. You will not be going without here I can promise you that. Tony is CDO of his company Starktech, and Steve is a former Captain with the army. He teaches history NYU now to fill his time."

As the three reached the door, it swung open, revealing a thin, balding man in a smart blue suit.

"Phil!" Mr Wilson exclaimed. "Good to see you! Hope retirement is treating you well?"

The man smiled slightly, stepping forward to embrace Mr Wilson. "Good to see you too. And you know I'm bored out of my mind!" He replied with a well meaning punch to his friends' arm. Mr Wilson turned back towards the boys.

"Sam, Dean, this is Phil Coulson. He was my superior at CPS. It's because of him that we were able to get you a spot here!"

"Charmed. Where the hell can I put my stuff?" Dean rudely replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Phil stepped back to let the group into the house. "Welcome to the Stark residence. Have a seat in the living room, I'll go get Steve and Tony."

Walking into the house was an experience in and of itself. The place was huge! Dean didn't know where to look first. He saw Mr Wilson headed towards some seating on the left side of the door and followed him to find a cozy room filled with a large tv, a plush faded brown couch and several arm chairs surrounding a glass coffee table.

And a young boy sitting on the floor playing a video game.

Mr Wilson sank himself in one of the armchairs and gestured for Sam and Dean to take a seat as well.

"Welcome!" Came a booming voice from behind them. Dean sprang up into a fighting stance, ready to protect Sammy.

"Thor, inside voice, remember?"

Phil had returned with three other men, two of the most jacked blonde guys Dean had ever seen, and a short man with dark hair and an impressive goatee.

"My apologies if I frightened you young friend," the younger of the two huge blond men bowed his head to Dean. The teen relaxed his stance, but was still ready to fight at a moments notice.

"Please sit!" The smaller man gestured to Dean, taking a seat next to the older blonde man on a loveseat beside the couch the brothers had taken.

Dean sat slowly, never taking his eyes off the three men. There's no way he'd be able to take all of them. Goatee man by himself probably, but the other two with those muscles? Better not make them angry, beatings from them would suck.

"My name is Steve, and this is my husband Tony," the older blonde introduced himself while holding out his hand to the boys. Sam shook his hand politely, then Dean took the offered hand and squeezed. Steve had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, and the biggest smile too.

Steve's hand was replaced by Tony's. His eyes were calculating, scanning the teen as if trying to figure out his next move.

"The one without volume control is Thor, our eldest," Tony gestured to the mound of muscles beside them. Thor looked like a god. His muscles were bulging out of the tank top he was wearing and his blonde hair brushed his shoulders as he waved to the boys.

"You must train a lot!" Sammy spat out, openly admiring Thor's bulk. The adults laughed at the young boys' remark as he sputtered an apology. Thor squatted in front of Sam as he responded.

"Aye, dad says I should move my bed to the gym as it would save me time." Thor's eyes twinkled in amusement as he shook Sam's hand. "And you must be Samuel! You already look like such a warrior, perhaps if you are interested you might join me some time."

The young boy hid his face as he replied "I'm not really a fighter. I do more of the research. Dean is the really strong one."

Thor smiled.

"Then the invitation is extended towards yourself as well Dean. Any time you'd like just say the word."

Sam's face lit up and he turned towards Dean. "Did you hear that Dean! He'll help train you! Dads gonna be so happy when he comes back!"

And with that the atmosphere in the room shifted. Determined not to distress the brothers, Steve swiftly changed the subject. "And this one trying to rudely ignore us over there is Clint. Clint, come over and meet Sam and Dean!" Steve called out to the boy in front of the television.

"In a minute, I'm busy!" The boy called back.

Dean snapped his eyes towards the pair on the love seat. The boy didn't look much older than Sam and he was not letting any kid get hurt, no matter how they behaved. Dean saw Steve's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Clinton Francis Stark. You pause your game and get over here." Steve's voice was firm and calm.

It caused shivers to climb up Deans back.

He heard the boy sigh dramatically, then shuffle over to his parents. Clint was shorter than Dean, certainly, but not much taller than Sam, with short blond spiky hair and a lopsided grin that spoke of unseen mischief. He waved at the brothers and introduced himself, then turned to his fathers.

"There. We've met. Can I go back to my game now?"

Steve sighed and waved the boy back to the screen. "We're talking about this later Clint."

The group watched as Clint sprinted to the television. "Sorry about that, we got him that game system for his birthday and apparently the novelty hasn't worn off yet. Why don't we give you a tour of the place?" Tony stood up and held a hand for his husband. "Shall we?"

Steve smiled and took the hand. "Always so dramatic," he playfully answered. "Thor, why don't you take the boys' bags for them, I'm sure they're tired from the trip over here."

Sam handed his bag to the man, still openly staring. Dean clutched his backpack closer to himself, then handed his over as well. He had a knife strapped to his calf that would give him enough protection for the moment and there was nothing in there worth fighting Hercules over if it went missing.

Thor resembled a giant puppy as he gleefully smiled at the boys before heading up the entryway stairs.

"Thor will leave them in your room for you," Tony reassured the brothers. "In the meantime, welcome to Casa del Stark!"


	4. Chapter 4

The house was easily the largest building the boys had ever stepped foot in. There were both indoor and outdoor pools, a formal dining room, a casual dining room, Tony's workshop, Steve's home office, a library (Sam's eyes had gotten as big as dinner plates trying to take in all the books so readily available to him), a home gym and Dean's personal favourite, a garage lined up with over twenty luxury cars.

"Why is there a punching bag in the corner?" Sam asked their guides, big brown eyes gazing up at them.

"Tony and I don't get to spend a whole lot of time together just the two of us, so sometimes when Tony is tinkering with his cars I come down and box. Just to be near him." Steve wrapped an arm around the shorter man, kissing the top of his head as Dean rolled his eyes at the display.

"Mr Wilson said you were married, but you're both men?" Sam had no idea that his question was so wildly inappropriate and simply looked to the men for the answer .

Dean on the other hand did. He reached out and shoved Sam behind him, waiting for the back hand.

"Dean what the heck? I was just asking a question!" Sam pushed his brother away from him, annoyed. The older boy blinked a couple times before looking up at the couple.

Steve's face was pinched in concern, before shaking himself and started explaining gay relationships to Sam. He was very calm and sported a smile the entire time. Answering any questions the young by had.

Tony on the other hand was studying Dean. His face was unreadable as he looked the teen in the eye for a long moment, before joining the conversation.

Dean was confused. Surely that comment had to have offended the couple, why didn't they react?

The last stop on the tour was their room. It was twice as big as their last motel room with dad and held two identical wooden frame double beds. The walls were sparsely decorated but was painted in shades of green and blue. Opposite their beds were matching desks and wardrobes, complete with laptops on the desks and clothes filling the drawers.

"I know it's pretty plain right now, but you can decorate it however you'd like. Just let one of us know and we can go shopping for whatever you like. And those laptops on the desks are for the two of you, we don't track what you search but please do try and be responsible." Tony said from the doorway. Him and Steve were standing just outside the room, watching the brothers with smiles on their faces.

Dean turned to his hosts. "Thank you." His smile was tight, as though forced, where as Sam was gleaming ear to ear.

"Dean! Laptops! This will make research so much easier!" Sam ran to the furthest desk and started fiddling with the computer.

"We figured you would want to share a room for now. If at any time you want your own rooms just let us know and we'll fix something up, we have more than enough rooms." Steve told Dean. "Sam can you look at me please?" he called out to the boy. He made sure both boys were paying attention before speaking. "This is your room. No one else in allowed in your room at any time except for you. The only exception to this rule is when you're sick and need to be taken care of, or if we feel someone is in danger. Other than that, everyone in this house will get express permission before walking through this doorway. Understand?" Sam nodded and returned his attention to the computer. Dean eyed Steve, scanning him for something, before nodding slowly.

"Good! Do you have any questions for us before we get dinner ready?" Steve asked.

Dean shook his head and Sammy called "Nope!" from his desk, already engrossed with the new technology.

"Okay then. We're going to eat in the casual dining room, we'll call for you when the food is ready. If you get lost we'll send someone to come find you. Now it's time for Mr. Wilson and Mr. Coulson to go home, why don't you say goodbye." Steve pushed his husband toward the stairs, muttering about leaving them to get acclimatized.

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Dean. "May I come in your room?" He smiled.

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for the two men to come in. Mr. Wilson walked into the room and knelt beside the teen.

"You know the drill and you know my number. Feel free to call at any hour for anything at all." This was the case workers usual statement to the boys before leaving a foster home, but this time he added. "Steve was actually my commanding officer in the army, so these aren't just random people that I'm leaving you with this time. I really do trust these men with my life." He reached out and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "However. If you don't feel safe at any time, know that I will take your side every time. You say they are the most despicable human beings on the planet I will come get you at two in the morning, bring my gun and start the lawsuit before you can even hang up. Heck, if someone even looks at you funny, you call me immediately."

This was the reason that Dean didn't just take Sam and run. Mr. Wilson was truely a good man that believed in the two of them with his entire heart. It wasn't his fault that they kept getting stuck with the worst kind of humans.

Dean nodded and gave a rare genuine smile to the man. "You know me. Anything threatens Sammy, I won't hesitate."

Mr. Wilson smiled back before squeezing the teens shoulder and standing up, attempting to pry Sam away from the internet.

Dean looked at the other man now. The 'Mr. Coulson' that was the reason they were here. Dean didn't trust him yet. The man nodded to Dean before sitting in the desk chair a few feet away.

"I know your history." The man began, not even bothering to keep looking at the teen. "I know you stayed with some real monsters in the past." At this he pointedly looked at Dean before continuing to roam his eyes around the room. Dean's breath stopped. Monsters? He knew about the supernatural?

"You'll find everything you need to be safe already in place, and everything you need to feel safe in your bottom desk drawer." The man continued. "Steve and Tony aren't ignorant of the situation as a whole, but the specifics are very fuzzy. If you feel the need, you can share anything with them and they will not tell your secrets to another being. Either way, while you are in this house you are under both my and their protection and always will be." At that, the man lifted himself from the chair as waited for Mr. Wilson to finish hugging Sam, before giving one last pointed look to the teen and leaving.

"Dean this is awesome! I can't believe they gave us laptops!"

"Yeah Sammy, it's awesome. Now you can finally ascend to full nerd." Dean teased his brother as he sprinted to his desk and opened the bottom drawer very carefully. Inside was a full hunters supply minus any weapons. Holy water, rosaries, salt, an exorcism ritual, guides for protection wards and a flip phone with a post note on it.

"This phone is programmed with my number and is completely untraceable to anyone but me. Use only in case of emergencies. -P.C.

Fucking hell.


	5. Chapter 5

At dinner, the boys were introduced to Steve and Tony's other children, a teen named Bruce, who they learned was eighteen and was already in university getting a biology and chemistry degree, and a sixteen year old girl named Natasha with flaming red hair.

Sam immediately wanted to sit beside Bruce and talk science, while Dean almost got sacked when he winked at Natasha. He sat far away from her at the table.

"So Sam, I hear you like to read. What's your favourite book so far?" Bruce asked, filling his plate.

"My favourite? Umm. Gee I don't know, there are just so many-"

"It's Percy Jackson." Dean interrupted, staring at his lasagna. "His favourite is the one about the labyrinth."

"How do you know that?" Sam asked his brother, mouth hanging open.

Dean shrugged. "That's the one you talk about the most. Pretty easy to guess."

"Is that one your favourite?" Steve asked.

Sam brought his eyebrows together in thought. "Yeah, I never thought about it but I guess it is."

"Dean do you read?" Asked Tony, setting down his phone for the first time since dinner started.

"Nah. Sammy's the smart one, I'm the pretty one." He winked at his brother which made him giggle into his salad.

"So what do you like to do?" Steve inquired.

Dean shrugged. "I look after Sammy."

"No sports? Or theater? Any hobbies?" Tony pushed, hoping the kid had at least one interest that wasn't his brother.

"Does fighting count?" Dean smirked. Tony and Steve looked to each other.

"As in boxing?" Steve asked.

"If that's what you wanna hear then sure." Dean winked at Steve before digging into his plate, effective ending the conversation.

"Perhaps you would be interested in football!" Thor chimed in, his cheeks full of food.

"That's a great idea Thor, maybe you could play a practice round with him some time." Steve smiled at his eldest while still looking at Dean. "So Nat, how was your English test today?"

Nat shook her head.

"Not a talking day, huh?" Tony reached for the girls hand and squeezed before letting go. He whispered something in her ear and Nat gave a small nod. "Nat came to us non verbal, she's been doing so much better but some days are harder than others."

Sam slanted his head and analyzed Nat. "So if you don't talk, how do you do group projects in school?"

The family laughed at the innocence of the question as Steve answered. "Her teachers are aware of the situation and she has other assignments instead." Steve was glad to see Nat smiling at the boy instead of being offended at the question. Dean on the other hand was staring at Steve again.

Soon, the forks slowed and the meal was over. Bruce started collecting everyone's plate and Sam and Dean quickly stood to help him.

"Sam, Dean, it's okay, let the others clear the table tonight, we need to talk to the two of you really quick." Tony beckoned the two to the far end of the table.

Dean made sure he stood a step in front of his brother, not knowing what the men had in mind.

"Tony and I took the day off tomorrow to help you settle in. I'll drive the others to school then it'll be a day just for he four of us. To get to know each other better." Steve didn't miss the way Dean's eyes got bigger or the flinch the boy made. "For tonight, you two can do whatever you'd like. Hang out in your room, go for a swim, just relax. We'll go through specific house rules tomorrow, such as chores like clearing the table."

Dean nodded, then grabbed Sam's hand and lead them to the stairs.

"Dean I really like it here so far. Did you test them at dinner?" Sam asked as he flopped on his new bed. Every first night at a house Dean would throw the family with every supernatural test he knew of just in case they were living with monsters.

"Yup. Dumped a vial of holy water in the water jug, watched as everyone sprinkled salt on their food and the cutlery was already silver so I didn't even have to replace it." He responded, flopping onto his own bed.

"Good. Everyone here is so nice it would suck to have to kill them. And this house! It must be so nice to be rich! Do you think they're gonna have to move us again? I hope not. Bruce is really smart! He started telling me that our entire body is made up of something called atoms that-"

Dean tuned out his little brother, occasionally muttering 'uh-huh' and 'that's so interesting'. He just needed to wait until Sam went to bed. Dean needed to talk to his foster dads. Preferably before tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

"Steve, I don't know about this." Tony admitted to his husband. "Are we really the best people to care for these boys? Dean is as amped up as a feral cat, and god Steve. He looks so scared!"

The couple were preparing for bed, Steve pulling down the sheets while Tony paced the floor.

"How can we help him if he's scared of us!" The engineer threw his hands up in frustration. Steve walked behind the man and wrapped his arms around his middle.

"Remember when we first met the other kids?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

"Thor was ready to fight everything, Bruce was scared of his own shadow, Clint was terrified of doing anything around us in case it was wrong and Nat would sleep against their door to make sure it couldn't open. Not to mention she never said a single word to us for the first six months." The soldier rested his chin on Tony's head as he spoke. "And technically we still haven't met Loki, but his and Thor's father really did a number on him."

Tony hugged his husband in return. "I get it. We've been through a lot, we can work through this. But Steve." Tony pushed himself out of Steve's arms. "What if we screw it up? What if we scar them for life?"

Steve pulled the shorter man to their bed and pushed him in before climbing in beside him and pulling up the covers.

"We do our best. That's all we can hope for"

_Knock knock._

"Come in."

Deans head popped out through the crack in the door. "Can I talk to you real quick? Please?"

"Of course, what is it Dean?" Tony's eyes widened in surprise as he sat up further in their bed. The men watched Dean come further in the room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

"I'm here to make a deal." The boy states after taking a bracing breath.

"A deal? What deal would that be?" Steve slowly drew the covers off himself as he prepared to get off the bed.

Another deep breath.

"You do whatever you want to me if you don't touch Sam." Deans voice dropped off and silence filled the room.

"Dean-"

"I mean it, anything, I'll cover for you! I know how to hide bruises, I don't scream that loud, no one would ever know!" An edge of panic betrayed the boys voice even as his face was a stony mask.

The men blinked at Dean for a moment, their hearts essentially breaking for the fourteen year old who had been through more than he definitely should have. Tony slowly, never taking his eyes off Dean, got out of bed and drew closer to him.

"Why don't you wait for us down stairs and we'll talk for a little bit. Sound good?"

Dean nodded, expression unwavering, but Steve noticed that his hand shook as he opened the bedroom door.

"What the fuck." Tony collapsed on the settee at the end of the bed, running a hand down his face. "What the actual fuck."

"Tony. What do we do?"

"Well obviously not take him up on it!"

"Well obviously, genius! I meant what are we gonna say to him? He's never gonna believe us when we say we'd never hurt Sam." Steve stood up and was wrapping his robe around himself.

A muffled response came from behind Tony's hands. "Fuck if I know Steve. I am definitely not the expert in this area." Steve handed Tony his robe which the other man swatted away. "With Nat she just didn't talk to us, Dean just straight up offered to be a punching bag! I mean-"

"I know Tony. But like you said, we'll do our best."

Tony grumbled in response. Standing up, the man took his husbands offered arm. "Bloody optimist"

Steve chuckled lightly as he kissed his husband. "That's why you love me. Now. Let's take care of our newest son."


	7. Chapter 7

_Stupid_. _Stupid_. _Stupid_.

Why did Dean have to interrupt them in bed? If he had just done it after dinner they wouldn't be coming down right now. The beating was always less right after dinner, they were too full to have any actual energy. And now-

Dean stilled as he heard the stairs creak behind him. He watched as the men sat on the couch beside the armchair he chose to perch in. Tony glanced at Deans hands, the boys nails digging into the fabric of his sleep pants and into his leg.

"Okay Dean," Tony started, pulling his eyes away and looking at Deans face. "Why don't you explain what that was about."

The couple stared at Dean expectantly.

"What's to explain. I offered the deal, the only thing left is for you to take it. Whatever you're into, I promise I can handle it." The boys bravado showing through as he smirked at the two.

"I can tell you right now we're not taking that deal-" Steve started.

"What? Why not? You can do anything! I'll do anything for you! Don't you want that?" Dean was starting to panic, interrupting Steve. They need to take this deal. He couldn't leave Sammy un-defended.

"Slow down-"

"Come on, I already told you I can hide bruises, I-I can clean and cook, I'm great at hiding pain-"

"Dean-"

"I'm useful for stress relief! I know you have each other, but you can use me too! I've been told that I'm a great fuck! I can suck and everything! You don't want to give that up!" Dean tried to take control of the situation by leaning into the chair and letting his legs spread, showcasing his crotch.

"**Dean**, **stop**."

Dean froze. That must be Steve's 'Captain' voice. If he didn't know he was in the army before, no doubt now. The boy looked at the grown men, gaging their reactions. Steve was angry. Shit. Tony looked like he was gonna be sick. Interesting.

The three sat there. Tension hanging thick in the air. Dean with his legs still spread, and Tony gripping Steve's hand so hard both of their knuckles were turning white.

"We're not going to hurt Sam. Ever." Steve carefully explained. "And neither will we ever hurt you." Dean snorted as he sat up.

"Sure and the Easter bunny is totally real," he scoffed. "Look, I know how this works. You play real nice and all for the first few weeks, get us to trust you, get the CPS guy to stop looking so closely then you run out of beer and suddenly you're looking for blood. I know, I've been through this. That's why I'm offering for you to skip all that and just get to it. More fun for you. All I ask is that you don't touch Sam. That's it. That's the only requirement and I don't think it's such a bad one."

"No Dean, that may have been how it was before, but it's not going to be that way here." Dean tried to interrupt but Steve put up a hand, silencing him. "I know you don't trust us. And that's okay, we have to earn that, we know. But trust what you see. Can you do that?"

Dean nodded slowly, skeptical. Tony finally spoke up then, still looking a little green.

"Okay, awesome. This is what we're gonna do, I'm going to state things you saw today and the logical explanation for them. You then tell me if it makes sense or if you have any questions and we'll go from there. Okay?" He waited for a nod. "Good. Now. When you came in, Thor was wearing a sleeveless shirt. Did you see any bruises?"

Dean shook his head.

"Right. Because there weren't any. Which means that either we don't hurt our children, or we don't hurt them anywhere you can see, but the fact that he had no troubles carrying your things up the stairs indicates that he's probably not in pain anywhere. Agreed?"

A nod.

"Good. Next. Clint was playing video games and didn't want to pause to greet you. Steve told him firmly to get his butt over to meet you. Did you see Steve touch him in any way to get him to comply?"

A shake, no.

"Right. Now that could mean that Clint was going to get in trouble later, but, from his dramatic ass eye roll you could probably tell he wasn't scared in any way, meaning he was in no way expecting to get hurt. Agreed?"

A nod.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

A nod. Dean was looking firmly on the ground by now, hunched in toward himself.

"Okay. Nat. She, admittedly, doesn't talk much. We're working on that, but we let her do what she's comfortable with. When she refused to speak to you did we get mad in any way?"

Another shake. No.

"That's right. We would never harm any kids, ever. Let alone our own. And like it or not, for the time being you're included in that category. Do you understand?" Tony was now sitting so close to the edge of the couch he could reach out and easily touch Deans hand. He wanted to. The poor boy looked so confused.

"I-no. I mean yes, but no." Dean shook his head slightly, still looking at the ground. "I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand how, or why. Why would you take us if you don't want anything from us?" He looked up, his eyes pleading with the older men for answers.

Tony did take his hand then.

"We took you in because you needed somewhere to go. As simple as that," Steve smiled. Dean was sitting stiffly, glancing both at Steve and at Tony's hand that held his. "I know it's hard to understand with what you've seen, but the world does have some good people in it, and we like to think we're some of them," the blond man wrapped his arm around Tony, creating the picture of a happy couple.

Dean shook his head and took his hand away quickly. He just sat for a moment, his hand posed in the air close to his chest. He studied the two closely as they looked at him, Tony's hand just hovering above where he had held Deans hand. After a moment, he buried his face in his hands on his lap and groaned.

"Ugh. K. This is how this is gonna go." Dean sat up straight again, placing his hands on his knees. The couple instinctively moved back, giving him space. "I don't trust you. At all. But if what your saying is true then it could be really good for Sammy. I'll let you do what you do, but if I think you're gonna touch him in any way, you're both in shit. And I mean it," Dean pointed at the men, glaring at them dangerously. "You touch a hair on his head I'll be burying you in an unmarked grave, then Sam and I are gone. I don't know if they told you, but our dad is coming back for us. The moment he does we're leaving, no if's, ands or but's. Agreed?"

Tony and Steve looked at Dean. Then at each other. "Dean," Tony started, "I promise we will never harm Sam. If your dad comes, we're not going to stop you from seeing him. But this hostility? It needs to stop."

Steve placed his hand on Tony's arm, silencing him. "We know you're protecting Sam, and that's really great. But we need to have some rules too. Can we talk about that?"

Dean shrugged. "Your house."

"Okay then. First off, threatening people? Not okay," Tony shook Steve's arm off him. "After tonight I don't want to hear you threaten anybody with death. Or maiming. Or bodily harm of any kind basically."

"Just try to be nice," Steve finished. Dean snorted. "Second rule. I know we haven't had a problem yet, but just in case, no weapons. No knives that aren't for cutting steak, no guns, nothing that was made to hurt someone else," Steve continued.

"I understand this rule but I'm not going to follow it," Dean stated clearly. "I am not going to be defenceless."

"I'm afraid this rule is one of the most important Dean. If you have a weapon, you're a danger to everyone in this house, and we won't stand for that-" Steve argued.

"You're telling me you don't have a single gun in this house? Nothing to protect yourself with?" Dean's voice getting louder. "You were in the army, you know how to use them and you're telling me you don't have a single gun in this house."

"No. Dean. I don't. The most we have is an extremely advanced security system and a baseball bat by the bed and the front hall closet." Steve responded. "Guns kill in an instant. If one of the kids were to find it I could never live with myself. Yes I know how to use weapons. I know how to kill and incapacitate in seconds. I had the highest kill count in my squadron. But Dean. Every one of those lives I took? I remember them. I mourn them. I don't play with human lives that easily that I would have something to take it away laying around. So again. I have to insist. No. Weapons."

Dean stared at Steve, expression unreadable.

"One gun. Unloaded in a box under my bed," Dean negotiated.

"No. No weapons." The soldiers gaze was piercing under the scrutiny.

"One knife?" Dean tried again.

Steve sighed.

"Because you still don't trust us, I will let you have one knife. But. You keep it in a locked box under your bed and you never take it out unless you fear someone's life is in danger." Steve conceded. "And, you give it to us when you trust us."

"Deal," Dean stuck out his hand to shake Steve's. The blond took the hand and shook it firmly.

"This means that you have to give us any weapons you have now. And if you hide any, trust me we'll know," Steve said, letting go of Deans hand. "We can do that after we go through the rest of the rules."

"Rule number 3!" Tony startled the other two. "No recreational drugs or alcohol. If you choose to break that rule, at least tell us first."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Of course you would have that rule. Alright. What else?"

Tony hesitated. "It's not in your file, but tell us when you want to self harm," he carefully stated.

"Self harm? What like if I'm gonna kill myself?" Dean laughed. "I may have a shit life but I promise you I'm not suicidal."

"We're glad to hear that, but that's not what I meant," the engineer replied. "It could be cutting yourself with a razor, punching a wall, hitting your head against that wall," he paused, "digging your fingernails into your skin."

Deans face shut down. Any expression it once held fled. After a moment, he smiled, the lines a bit too sharp to be natural as he responded "If you think a little blood is bad, boy you don't wanna know how the rest of my life has gone. If you weren't bleeding by dinner you weren't working hard enough." Dean stopped. His eyes widened. "Wait, no. That came out wrong. Our dad wasn't abusive, I swear! It's just, he was in the marines and we did drills and runs and shit! You know how it is, right? Steve?" Dean looked to the soldier for help.

"I understand what your saying and that's a conversation for another day Dean, but bottom line we don't want you bleeding at all if we can help it," Steve replied.

Dean furrowed his brows as he looked at the man. "What, are you so rich you have your kids do drills inside in a special padded drills room?" He asked.

"Dean our kids don't do drills," Tony explained. Dean was silent.

"But you were in the army. Why don't you have your kids do drills?" The boy questioned.

"Because they aren't in the army?" Steve questioned back.

Tony raised his arms between the blondes. "Okay we are getting off topic. Bottom line, you wanna hurt yourself in any way, you tell us first. Fair?"

Dean shrugged. "Can I go now?" He asked, not looking at the men.

Tony sighed as he ran a hand over his face. "Yeah. Sure. Go get any weapons you have and leave it on our bed. Then go to bed kid."

The two men listened as Dean climbed the staircase and were still until they heard the door close quietly above them. Tony collapsed into the back of the couch.

"Well Steve, I don't think we're gonna be hearing dad and papa from him any time soon."

"No. But it's going to be that much more worth it if he does," Steve whispered as he pulled his husband in for a hug.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean didn't sleep that night. He sat with his back on their door, standing guard for Sammy. When he felt sure that everyone in the house was asleep, he went to work.

Dean grabbed the salt, warding book and a sharpie marker and went to protect the house from the outside monsters.

Only, every window sill had salt in its casing. Every door had a mat in front of it that had warding burnt into the bottom. The whole house was already protected.

That must have been what Mr Coulson was talking about 'everything you'll need to be safe is already in place'.

Son of a bitch that guy is good.

Dean still double checked every corner of the house to make sure nothing was tampered with or drawn incorrectly. He didn't find anything of the sort.

By the time he returned to their room, it was five o'clock in the morning. Exhausted, Dean crawled into bed and set his eyes on their door, determined to protect Sammy.

* * *

A couple hours later, the boys woke to a knock on their door and Tony telling them that French toast was waiting for them in the kitchen.

"Mornin' boys!" Tony called out from behind his tablet. The man was sitting next to a coffee machine in the kitchen as Sam and Dean made their way down the stairs.

"Where is everyone?" Sam asked, rubbing his eyes.

"We decided to let you two sleep in. Steve is driving everyone to school so it's just the three of us here at the moment." Tony put down the tablet and pushed his glasses up to rest in his serious case of bed head. "Grab some French toast! Have a seat!"

Sam tilted his head. "What's French toast?"

Tony's eyes sparkled as his face lit up. "You're in for a treat!" He ushered the boys to sit at the breakfast nook and plated up two helpings of toast.

"Steve and I took cooking classes in Paris for our fifth anniversary, well, not so much cooking classes as we had breakfast at a bistro and begged the chef until he taught us how to make it." The man set the plates in front of the boys along with the syrup. "Either way it's freaking delicious!"

The brothers dug in. Dean quickly started moaning at the taste and stuffed more into his mouth, giving Tony a thumbs up. Sam ate leisurely, pausing between mouth fulls to complement Tony.

"I'm back!" Steve called from the front entrance, the jangling of keys following.

"In the kitchen!" Tony called back.

"Tony was just telling us about how you learned to make French toast!" Sam exclaimed as Steve walked in.

"Really? He told you about how he bought out a restaurant and bribed the chef?" Steve smiled and hugged Tony from behind.

"Hey! I'll have you know he was very happy to be bribed!" Tony teased his husband. Before pushing him away and gathering the empty plates.

Steve sat at the table beside Dean, leaving Tony to sit next to Sam. "Okay, so here's what's gonna happen today." Steve addressed the boys. "Right now we're going lay out the house rules and you can ask any questions you want. We promise to be completely honest with everything we tell you. We'd also like to know more about the two of you, so we'll ask you some questions too, but know that you do not have to answer questions you don't want to. We would prefer you to say 'I don't want to tell you' over you lying to us. After that, the entire day is yours! Go swimming, check out the library, play video games, go crazy! Understand?"

The boys nodded. "Awesome! Let's start with curfew!" Tony chimed in. "Sam, you're not allowed out without someone else and you need to be back before eight. Dean, you need to be back by nine thirty on school nights, ten thirty on weekends. Both of you need to text us where you'll be going and if you know what time you'll be back. Speaking of!" Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out two Starkphones.

"These are for you. Both are programmed with the family's numbers as well as Mr Wilson's and Mr Coulson's numbers. If there are any other numbers you'd like to add go right ahead." Tony explained, passing over the phones.

"These are your phones now. Do whatever you'd like with them. If for whatever reason you need to leave us, the phones will go with you." Steve assured the brothers.

Dean inspected the phone. "These are brand new. How much did they cost?"

Tony scoffed. "Like ten cents. I made them a couple days ago when we first found out you were coming."

"You...made..?" Dean was piecing the puzzle together. "Starktech. You create all the technology for Starktech. That's why you're so rich."

"Well it had to come from somewhere! Anyways, if you want any features on the phone just let me know and I'll make it happen." Tony winked at Dean playfully. Dean eyed Tony strangely.

"Alright, next. Bedtimes. Sam, in bed by nine, Dean, ten thirty on school nights, midnight on weekends. We don't care if you're asleep at those times but you need to be in bed. Read a book, do some homework, whatever you want as long as you're in bed." Tony continued.

"But we would prefer if you actually tried to sleep." Steve interjected.

This went on as the boys learnt rules about chores, homework and all other boring rules of the household. Dean zoned out as the two kept talking, aware that this was important, but running on such little sleep was starting to catch up.

"And everyone goes to therapy. That one is non-negotiable."

Dean sat up abruptly.

"What?"

"Therapy. Everyone goes. Depending on how much they need to go. For example Tony goes once every two weeks and I go once a week. Some of the kids go more often than that." Steve explained.

"You? Go for therapy?" The words were out of Deans mouth before he could stop them.

Steve smiled. "We do. I was a Captain in the army and saw a lot of hard stuff. I came back with Post Traumatic Stress."

"And I was kidnapped in Afghanistan and lived in a cave for a few months. I get panic attacks and live with anxiety." Tony offered. "Mental illness isn't something to push away or hide. It's a real part of us and everyone in this family has some need for help."

"I thought I was okay? That's what the doctor said." Sam asked, confused.

Tony and Steve smiled. "We still want you go. Moving around a lot can be really stressful, and sometimes it can help to have someone to just listen to you."

Sam shrugged. "Okay."

"Dean? Do you have any thoughts on this?" Steve asked tentatively.

Dean raised his brows in a silent question. "Me? Pfft. I have a lot to say on the matter, but nothing's gonna change your mind so why bother."

"Now that that's settled!" Tony pushed forward. "Is there anything you'd like to ask us?"

* * *

Over the next hour they learnt that the two men had been together for close to thirteen years, married for nine and they met when Tony was hosting a benefit for veterans. Thor was the first child they adopted, followed by Bruce and then a few years later Clint and Natasha. Thor has a half brother in Scandinavia that was almost beaten to death by Thor's father/Loki's step father and Steve and Tony have been fighting to get him to the states to adopt him as well.

They also learned that Thor has issues with aggression, Bruce has something called 'meltdowns', Natasha can get really scary sometimes when she thinks she's in danger and Clint will get scared if you talk with your hands when he's close by.

Dean picked out the specific traumas that most likely happened to each kid. Sam just took the information in stride, not bothering to wonder where the behaviour could've come from.

"Do you have anymore questions for us?" Steve asked.

Both Dean and Sam shook their heads no.

"Okay, then off you go! Explore the house! Let us know if there's anything you need or if you have any more questions!" Tony shooed then off, then reached for his husbands hand. "I think we got this."


	9. Chapter 9

The next few weeks were boring, to say the least. Dean and Sam went to school, they came back, they did their homework, ate dinner as a family, chill, go to bed, repeat.

Dean was loving it.

He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but man the wait was sweet! He had a cell phone, two private pools, a gaming system, three meals a day and the heat hadn't gone out once. Hell, if Steve and Tony did start hitting him soon he wouldn't even mind.

Dean was even enjoying his therapy sessions. Not that he took them seriously, no he was having the best time fucking over the sweet young therapist they assigned him too.

"Are you sleeping well since you moved?" Dr Miranda asked him one day.

"I'd sleep a whole lot better after making sweet love to you, beautiful." He'd responded with. She sputtered and started lecturing him about chivalry while he smirked.

"You know I'd listen a lot better if you would unbutton your blouse there sweetheart. Or should I say sweet melons?"

That prompted the end of the session.

It also prompted a lecture from Steve and Tony.

'You need to treat women with respect, how would you like it-, blah blah blah.'

The fact was, that was how Dean got physiatrists off his back. Hit on them until they got uncomfortable. It had nothing to do with respect. Not that he'd tell Steve and Tony that.

The next session Dean walked in and she was wearing a turtleneck sweater and started by asking him about his relationship with his mother.

"Why? Wanna see what you're competing with? Don't worry baby cakes, you're plenty hot enough to go down on me." Was the reply. She recommended seeing a different therapist.

* * *

"I don't understand why you're doing this Dean." Steve told him as they were driving back from the clinic.

Dean shrugged. "If you were into women you would realize that she was hot."

"For your information both Tony and I are bisexual, but I would still never treat a lady that way!"

Dean scoffed as he stared out the window. "And that's why you probably never got laid. You're lucky you're hot otherwise you would've had trouble getting Tony willing to bone. He probably only saw your fine ass when you walked up to him anyways."

Steve stopped the car.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Speculating on your sex life. Are you the bottom or is he? I could easily see both ways. Oh! That's it isn't it! You switch!" Dean was laughing as Steve's face grew redder and redder.

"You're grounded." Steve started driving again, ignoring Dean.

"Aww, is someone a prude? If I were you I'd sell fucking tickets! Ha, fucking tickets, get it?" Dean knew he was poking the bear, but god it was fun. He missed doing drills, fighting, killing monsters! Don't get him wrong, not fearing for his life was great, but man life was boring without it.

"Dean, that's extremely inappropriate. Stop." Steve managed to say out of clenched teeth.

"Extremely inappropriate? Nah, extremely inappropriate is my saying that you'd look absolutely delicious tied up to your bed with your ass in the air-"

"Enough."

Dean paused.

"You say one more word I'll make sure you're on bathroom duty for a month." Steve spat out.

The teen eyed the man. Planning his next move very carefully.

"How about you spank me instead?"

The car stopped.

"Out."

Dean realized they were in front of the house. He unbuckled his seatbelt and started to climb out.

"Go to your room and do not leave until Tony or I say so." Steve called out.

* * *

Steve took a long, bracing breath.

What the hell?

* * *

"He said what?" Tony squeaked, his work completely abandoned.

"Yeah! Then I warned him he'd get bathroom duty for a month and he asked if I could spank him instead! What the hell right?!" Steve ran his hands through his hair so many times it looked like a disaster. The man was pacing in Tony's workshop, trying to calm down.

Tony sat back against his chair. "Huh."

"Huh? That's all you can say?"

"Hear me out. What if he's doing this on purpose?" Tony proposed.

Steve froze. "What?"

"He asked you to spank him. This could be his way of getting us to hit him. Make you angry enough, put the idea in your head, and…" The engineer trailed off.

Steve sighed and fell into a chair opposite his husband. "He's been waiting for us to hit him. Hasn't he? This entire time."

"Or he could be trying to tell us he's gay. I mean either one."


	10. Chapter 10

Fuck fuck FUCK. What did he just do. Steve was gonna-

Shit.

Dean was pacing in his room, trying to calm the fuck down. He wasn't trying to get beat, he just needed some stimulation and Steve was just so funny! Goddamnit! He always fucks everything up! Steve was gonna beat Dean, then Sam would say something to Mr Wilson again and then they'd have to leave again! All because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.

Dean sat on his bed, bracing his head in his hands as he tried to breathe.

There was a knock at the door.

"Dean? Can we talk to you?" Fuck it's Steve.

Dean jumped up, fighting with himself on whether to open the door or not.

"Dean we know you're in there. Come on, open the door." Tony? Why was he here?

Despite every instinct screaming to keep that door shut, the teen cracked it open to see Steve and Tony right outside.

"Hey champ. Can we come in?" Tony asked. Dean hesitated, and apparently Tony noticed. "Or we could talk somewhere else. How about we go to Steve's office?" He suggested. Dean nodded and slipped out of his room, following the men down the hall.

Every step felt heavier and heavier, as if he was trying make himself a part of the earth. As Steve closed the door behind him, he pictured a prison cell slamming shut.

"Dean, have a seat." Steve gestured to the chairs Tony had rearranged to be in a circle of the room.

Head hung, Dean did as he was told.

"Okay sport. What's this about?" Tony asked. The tone of his voice instantly made Dean want to burst into tears. Instead he crossed his arms and leaned back, slouching in his chair.

"What's what about?" He snarked. God why was he doing this?!

"This." Tony made a vague gesture to Dean. "All of this...stupidity. You're a smart kid Dean, why are you being a dumbass?"

Dean smiled and winked and Steve. "Speaking of ass-" fuckfuckfuckfuck

Tony leaned forward in his chair. "You want to be a dick? Fine. Be a dick. But know that I will win every time. I invented being a dick, so try me kiddo."

Dean inspected the man, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Did Steve tell you what I said earlier?" He asked. Tony nodded. "Good than you can answer my theory. I think you and Steve switch bottoming, I mean Steve's ass is to die for, but I'm guessing his dick is amazing too."

Dean decided: _fuck_ _it_. _I'm_ _already_ _in_ _shit_, _might_ _as_ _well_ _have_ _fun_ _with_ _it_.

Tony never wavered as he responded, "oh it is. Feels fucking amazing. But you wouldn't know that would you? You're too young to experience consensual, passionate, rigorous, athletic, sweaty sex with someone your age. Tell me Dean. Ever got with a girl or a boy in your school?"

"Fuck yeah. Esther Mathews in the broom closet in Kentucky. Tits were fucking amazing. And Felicia Sanders in Pennsylvania. Her cunt was absolutely delicious. Gave great head too. Want me to go on?" Dean fires back.

Tony looked to Steve then, breaking 'character' and said "we're definitely coming back to that later. But for now," he settled in again, staring at Dean unwavering once again. "Bet you never had supermodel cunt before. And you haven't lived until you've gotten a rim job."

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed, shocked.

"Oh I bet Steve's rim jobs are heavenly. Or should I say naughty. He ever open you up with his tongue and use only his spit as thrust into you? Bet you call him daddy."

"Kid you have too many daddy issues to start throwing that around. And fuck yeah they are. He says mine are the best though. He loves the beard burn he gets between his ass cheeks when I eat him out for hours." Tony shot back. Steve quickly stood up and left the room.

"Fuckin prude. You'd think with a body like that he'd just never wear clothes so anyone could just use him whenever they wanted." Dean spat.

"Oh I definitely did that. Rome. Thirty first birthday. An entire week where I refused to tell him where I hid his clothes. He made us dinner one night with his dick in my throat. I had dessert before dinner that night. Your turn." Tony knew he was wearing him down. Even a teen as crude as Dean had limits. Hopefully telling intimate stories of their sex life would be enough for him to get flustered.

"Dessert hey? I bet that cream tasted amazing. Did you eat him out afterwards for his dessert?"

"Nope. He ate mine." Tony winked.

Dean sputtered.

"Ha! I win!" Tony raised his arms in a victory. "You're done being a dick for today, alright?" He pointed sternly at Dean.

Dean sighed and shrugged. "Whatever."

"Steve you can come back in!" Tony called out, leaning back in his chair.

Steve was beat red as he opened the door again, refusing to look Dean in the eye as he sat in his chair once more.

"Okay. We're gonna try this again. What the fuck was that about?" Tony asked. Dean shrugged. "Nuh uh. You're not getting shy on us now. You owe us an explanation."

"Do you want us to hit you?" Steve looked as though the words left without his permission as he looked at Dean.

"What? Fuck. No. Of course not! Why would you- are you going to?" All of Dean's bravado disappeared when he looked up at his his foster parents. His green eyes full of such vulnerability and hurt that Steve and Tony's hearts broke simultaneously.

"NO!" They both screamed, startling Dean and themselves.

"We would never, ever raise a hand to you Dean. We told you once and we will keep telling you until you trust us enough to believe it." Steve was aching to pull Dean into a hug and just protect him from the world.

"Then why did you ask?" The teen's voice got very quiet, flicking his eyes between the two men.

Tony sighed and ran a hand over his face. "We thought that's why you might have been acting out. Maybe you were tired of waiting to get hit so you moved it along a little."

"But if that's not the case, then why?" Steve asked.

Dean shrugged again. "I don't know." He muttered.

"Oh no. With words like that there was definitely a reason." Tony looked pointedly at him. "Out with it."

Dean huffed and stood up, walking around his chair and threw his hands in the air. "I don't know okay! At first it was funny to see Steve flustered, but then I couldn't stop! I didn't want to keep pushing, but I just kept saying stuff and I thought I was already in shit, might as well go down swinging and I don't know why I said those things. I'm sorry." Dean was leaning on the back of his chair, his head hanging low.

The room was quiet.

"Let me make sure I have this right." Steve started. "At first it was funny, then you couldn't stop and then you were in too deep. Is that correct?"

Dean nodded.

"Dean. Of all those reasons the one that worries me the most is that you couldn't stop. That's a problem." Steve stood up from his seat and stepped closer to Dean. "Is this what happened in your therapy sessions too?"

Dean shook his head. "No. The more I make them uncomfortable, the less they focus on me." He admitted. "Plus, it's pretty funny too."

"Why is it funny to make people uncomfortable?" Tony asked him.

Dean shrugged again. "I don't know it just is. I-I don't know."

Steve took another step closer to Dean as he asked "Dean? You can say no if you don't want to, but may I give you a hug?"

Dean nodded, then flung himself into Steve's arms. The teen melted as Steve wrapped his arms around him and cradled Dean's head to the man's shoulder.

It was getting harder to breathe as Dean realized he was fighting off tears. He wanted to push the man away, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd just been held like this. It felt really damn good. Steve never pushed him away or said anything, he just kept rubbing Dean's back and held him tight, ready to hold him for as long as the boy needed.

Eventually Dean managed to successfully push down the tears and moved away from the man. Steve kept his hand on the teen's shoulder.

"How ya feeling champ?" Tony asked, still seated.

Dean took a big breath, then let it all out before he answered. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I know you want me to talk to you, but I don't know."

Steve squeezed his shoulder. "That's okay. You're trying and that's all we can ask for."

Tony stood up then, moving towards the two. "However, we still do need to talk. And we will never, ever hurt you, but we still need to punish you for what happened today. It wasn't cool and you owe Dr. Miranda an apology."

Dean nodded at Tony's words.

"I also owe you an apology Steve. What I said...god, I-I'm so sorry."

Steve shushed the boy, cupping his foster sons face and brushing his cheek with his thumb. "I accept your apology. It's all in the past now, it's okay."

"We're going to hold off on punishing you though." Tony surprised Dean. "Until we know what happened, we're not going to punish you. Your homework will be to think about why you think making people uncomfortable is funny, and why you think you couldn't stop when it stopped being funny. In a couple weeks we'll regroup and talk it all over. Sound good?" Tony was asking both Dean and Steve, making sure everyone was on the same page.

"But I don't-"

"That's why you have a couple weeks to think, darling, to get everything straightened out in that head of yours." Steve gave the boy a small smile.

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into Steve's touch.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll figure it out."


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey bud! Whatcha workin on?" Steve sat beside Sam in the library, noticing the books piled around him.

"Geography. Why are all the countries so small and close together in Europe! Can't they just all join one country and call it a day?" Sam dropped him head on the table dramatically, making Steve chuckle.

"I know what you mean. I was deployed in the Middle East some years back and we took leave in Europe a couple times. My best friend and I started one night in France and I get a call from him the next morning saying he's in Germany and has no idea how he got there."

Steve's eyes were far away as he recalled the memory.

"Steve?" Sam called out hesitantly, breaking the mans trance.

Steve blinked, then shook his head. "Sorry Sam. I forgot about that until just now. It feels good to remember the good ol' days." The soldier smiled at the boy and covered a smaller hand with his own. "He was so confused! He said he was going to take a bus to meet me at the hotel, then next thing he knew he was waking up to an old man yelling at him in German. He swore he traveled back in time to the Second World War until he got out his smartphone."

Sam was quiet. He looked at Steve's hand over his own, then raised his head to meet Steve's eyes.

"Steve, what was war like?"

The man's smile vanished.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to answer! I was just curious and my dad never wanted to talk about it and-"

"Sam." Steve squeezed Sam's hand as he interrupted the boy. "It's fine. I was just caught off guard. War was-" Steve took a bracing breath. "War was hell, to tell you the truth."

Sam's attention was held firmly as he stared intently at his foster parent.

"I saw things I would never wish on anyone out there. Things I truly hope you will never see."

"Your best friend that you mentioned. He was in the army with you?" Sam asked.

"Yes. He enlisted just a month before I did. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. But I always called him Bucky. We grew up together in Brooklyn. I lost him in the war." Steve lowered his eyes.

Sam pulled his hand away and shrunk in his seat. "So you drink then?"

"What?" Steve was thrown by the boys question.

"My dad said he drank to forget the people he lost. So that means you drink too, right?" Sam stared at his hands, somehow looking even smaller.

Steve was stunned into silence. The two of them sat there while Steve struggled to speak. The man pulled out his phone, typed something, then set the phone on the table between them. He then covered his mouth with his hand, and the two sat in silence once more.

The door to the library opened a few moments later and Tony made his way to the table, sitting beside his husband. Steve reached for his him and the two held hands as Steve spoke once more.

"Sam, can you please tell Tony what you told me?" His voice unwavering.

Sam looked from one man to the other, homework long forgotten. He was confused. He just asked a simple question, why was Steve acting weird? "He told me that he lost Bucky in the war and I asked if he drinks."

"And what did you say about your father?" Steve prompted.

"That that's why my dad drinks. Only, he said he lost a lot of people, so he had to drink a lot, and you only said you lost Bucky, so maybe you don't have to drink so much?" Sam reasoned.

"Ah." Was Tony's response.

"To answer your question Sam, no. I don't drink. A lot of veterans drink to forget, I knew a lot of them. But I never want to forget Bucky." Steve finally responded.

"Do you know what an alcoholic is Sam?" Tony asked. Sam shook his head. "An alcoholic is someone who is addicted to drinking. Someone who feels they need to drink for whatever reason and has a hard time stopping. Does that sound familiar?"

The boy nodded. "That sounds like my dad." He peeked up. "So there are other people like that too? It's not just him?"

Tony sighed. "No. It's not just him. I'm also an alcoholic Sam."

The men watched as Sam's face fell, his eyes going big as the words sunk in. "You?"

The one word had winded the men, the betrayal clear in the young boys voice.

"I don't drink anymore." Tony assured Sam. "I got sober a year after I met Steve."

"But you said-"

"I'm still addicted to alcohol even though I don't drink it. The goal is to never touch a drop of alcohol ever again. And I'm not going to lie to you, I've had some setbacks over the years, but I had my therapist and Steve to support me and get me back on track."

"Since the day Tony told me he was quitting, I haven't had any alcohol either. You never have to worry about us drinking Sam." Steve added.

"Oh." Sam whispered. The men saw that he was deep in thought, and simply waited for him to process the information. "Do you think my dad could stop drinking like you did Tony?"

"I'm not sure, bud. It's really hard to beat an addiction, and I'm really lucky that I had so much support to get me through it." Tony answered. "But, I'm sure that with enough support, there's definitely a chance."

Sam smiled brightly at his foster parents. "Then I'm gonna give him all the support he needs when he comes back!"

The men smiled at Sam. "That's awesome buddy." Steve told him. "I'm sure he'll really appreciate that."

"Is there anything else you want to ask us?" Tony asked Sam.

"Yeah," Sam pulled one of his papers forward, "which one is Ireland and which one is Scotland?"


	12. Chapter 12

Family dinners were apparently a nightly thing at the Stark household. All eight occupants gathered together at precisely six thirty to eat and get interrogated. At least that's how Dean saw it. Why did anyone even want to know how his day was? He woke up, didn't pay attention in class, and now he's here. Not much to tell.

"Clint how did archery practice go?" Steve asked as he cut into his chicken.

Clint shrugged and shoved as much of the food into his mouth as possible before answering. "All bulls eyes all the time." Or, at least that's what everyone assumed he said around the food.

"Mmmhmm. Then where did that bandaid come from?" His sister teased. Clint had a new bright pink bandaid on his forehead, although this wasn't out of the norm for the clumsy twelve year old.

"Fell. Air tripped me and I hit a desk." Was his response before chugging his milk.

"Can you even try to eat like a human being?" Natasha looked at him in disgust, daintily holding her plate further away from him. Clint's reply was to simply lean towards her and, with a mouthful of food, say 'Ahhhhhh' to let her see all of the partly chewed food.

"Ew! Gross! Papa make him stop!"

"Clint eat your food, stop bothering Nat." Steve called out, though he was smiling as he said it.

"And Thor, how was football practice?" Tony asked the buff blond.

"We have much work to do if the team is to reach regionals, however I am confident we shall do our best!" The man puffed out his chest with pride. "Although," he paused. "Something odd happened today that I feel I need to seek council for."

"Oh? Do you want us to call Dr Sif?" Tony asked, already reaching for his phone.

"No, dad, I did not mean council in that regard. My teammates and I were talking after practice, and they were speaking of a woman in such vulgar terms. I do not understand why they did this? Women are such beautiful and wonderful beings, why would they talk of her this way? Is it an American custom I have yet to be introduced to?" Thor looked to his family in confusion, completely unaware of the situation he just described.

Dean snorted into his food in a half laugh half embarrassed choke, remembering his and Tony's conversation just the other day.

Tony gave Dean a 'check yourself' look before answering his son. "A lot of men don't have the respect of women that you do Thor. Unfortunately they see women as an object that they can use instead of the people that they are. That's where that kind of talk comes from, from that place of thinking that they're better than someone else."

Thor looked at his plate, brow furled as he thought. "Would this not make them the lesser beings? For believing that that woman is beneath them, when they act in such a way?" He asked his parents.

Steve smiled at his eldest. "You're completely right. The next time you hear anyone talking like that about anyone you tell them why they shouldn't, okay? Stick up for people especially if they aren't there to defend themselves."

"Lord knows your Papa has done that enough times for me over the years." Tony chuckled.

"I only do it because you're so easy to defend." Steve kissed Tony's cheek playfully.

Tony threw his head back and laughed. "That's the biggest load of BS I've ever heard!"

"What does BS mean?" Sam asked. Steve gave Tony a pointed 'look what you did now' look as Tony sputtered.

"It's short for bull shit Sammy." Dean explained before digging into his potatoes.

The entire table went quiet as they whipped their heads to look at Dean. Apparently they were all in consensus that a ten year old didn't need to know how to swear.

"Oh. Okay. I've never heard it shortened before. I guess it makes it easier to say, but it's the same number of syllables, why not just-"

"So Sam how was your day?" Steve interrupted.

The boy perked up as he explained about what he learnt today in school. They were learning about the different bones and muscles of the body right now and he loved how you had a cheat sheet with you at all the tests because you could just look at the muscles on your body!

"If you want I can help you study." Bruce offered. "I can even teach you more if you're interested. I'm taking a human anatomy course in uni right now so it would actually help it I could explain some of the information to someone else."

Well. The rest of world could've pissed off right then and there as far as Sam was concerned.

"Really? You would teach me things you're learning in university?!" He gaped at the older boy. Bruce chuckled at Sam's enthusiasm.

"Of course. Just make sure you let me know if I go too fast okay, I don't want to lose you part way through. How about we go to the library after dinner?"

Sam, with his mouth still agape, nodded.

"Okay, we went through Nats ballet rehearsal, so that leaves you Dean! How was your day?" Steve inquired.

Dean rolled his eyes before answering. "Awesome. Saved a kitten, walked an old lady across the street and got nominated for a nobel prize." He snarked.

"Dean." Steve was using his 'are you sure you want to do this' voice. Dean sneaked a look at the two men and saw them watching him with concern. He sighed.

"Fine. It was a normal day. School sucked. Food is good. Anything else you want to know?" He responded.

"What are you learning about in your classes?" Tony asked, trying to get more information from the boy.

"I don't know. Math? Science? History? At least I hope that's what they're teaching us or else you better reconsider send us there."

Tony sighed and apparently gave up. "Alright. I hope so too."

Steve, however, noticed something. "We should get the two of you into some extra curriculars now that you've had a chance to see what they are." He threw the idea out there and waited to see Dean's reaction. "Sam I'm sure you would love the science club, or the decathlon team or something like that. I hear there's even a book club if you're interested."

"Yeah I'll take a look at what they have. I wouldn't mind reading more books!" Sam looked excited at the prospect.

"And Dean. Are you interested in anything? Any sports or hobbies?" Steve pushed.

"Nope." The answer came quick and deadpan.

"Really? You're not interested in a single sport?" Tony asked.

"Never stuck around in one place long enough to last a season, so let's not push our luck." The boy spat in return.

The subject was quickly dropped.

* * *

After dinner, Steve pulled Dean aside.

"Go put on some workout clothes and meet me in the gym." He told the teen.

Not one to disobey a direct order, that's exactly what Dean did. He had no idea what he was expecting, but seeing Steve stretching in an army shirt and loose shorts was not it.

"Oh good, you're here! Start stretching with me." Steve beckoned for the boy to come closer to him on the mats.

Wordlessly, Steve lead them through stretches while telling Dean how important it was to stretch before ever doing something strenuous as to avoid hurting yourself. Dean rolled his eyes everytime Steve wasn't looking.

Finally, Steve stood up and asked Dean "how much combat do you know?"

The question threw Dean. "Um, what?"

"Combat. Self defence, boxing, sparring, whatever you want to call it. How much do you know?"

"I know what my dad taught me." Dean responded. "Where is this going?"

Steve crouched into a fighters stance. "Come at me."

"What!" Dean reeled back so suddenly he fell ass first on the mats and shuffled back a few feet.

Steve stood back up immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung that on you! I promise I'm not trying to punish you and I'll do my very best to not hurt you in any way. Would it be okay if the two of us sparred?" He asked and held out a hand to Dean to help him up.

Dean eyed the man, then the offered hand. Instead of taking the hand, Dean swept out his legs and caused Steve to fall to the mats.

"Oof. I'm taking that as a yes." Steve muttered as he pushed himself up again. "Okay." He got back down into fighting position. "Come at me."

Dean smiled. He knew how to do this. He could fight in his sleep, this is what he trained for!

"You sure you're ready for this old man?" He asked, already feeling more secure than he had since he got here.

"Bring it."


	13. Chapter 13

"Well, I must say, for a fourteen year old, you're amazing." Steve complimented Dean as he threw the teen a bottle of water.

"Thanks." Dean panted out. "A little out of practice though." He admitted and gulped down the water.

Steve regarded the boy, analyzing him. Steve had noticed that Dean was always shaking his leg or fiddling with something in his fingers, unless he waa, as Tony put it: 'being a dick'. The soldier watched as Dean sat on a bench and drank the water, both hands and legs completely still.

"How ya feelin?" He asked Dean as he sat next to him.

"Sore." The teen smiled and leaned his elbows on his knees. Steve inspected Dean's hands again to find them calmly holding the bottle. Normally he would've been picking at the label as soon as Steve tossed it to him.

"And? How else?" He pushed.

"Good." Dean hung his head for a moment, then looked up at Steve. "Like myself."

Steve couldn't contain himself any longer and wrapped an arm around Dean and pulled him to his side.

"Good! I'm glad to hear it! How would you like to spar with me a few times a week?" Steve offered as he hugged the boy.

Dean gave a timid smile in return. "Yeah. I'd like that."

* * *

"I figured it out!" Steve exclaimed as he kissed his husbands cheek. Tony, on the other hand, had no idea Steve was there and paperwork and tools alike went flying as he jumped out of his chair in surprise.

"I'm sorry love." Steve chuckled and held out his arms for Tony.

"You better be sorry you-" The engineer muttered as he folded himself in the larger man's hug. "Now what's this about you figured something out?"

Steve pulled the other man to sit on the couch that was often Tony's bed when he crashed in the middle of the day just a few feet away from the desk.

"Dean. I've figured out what's going on with Dean. Well, maybe not all of it, a small part anyways-"

"Steve. Hunny. I love you." Tony interrupted. "But I haven't slept in two days."

"Despite my best efforts." Steve rolled his eyes. "But okay. Have you noticed how Deans always moving? Shaking his leg or playing with something in his hands?"

"Yeah. Classic ADHD signs. If he would stick with a therapist for long enough I'm sure he would've been diagnosed by now." The other man answered.

"That's what I thought too. Until he stopped when he was giving us lip." Steve revealed.

"And? I may be a genius, but two days Steve. Two days." Tony gestured for him to spell it out.

"I just came from sparing with him and afterwards? Nothing. Sat perfectly still!" The man was grinning ear to ear, excitement exuding from him like sun rays.

"So he just needed to let out some steam?" Tony questioned.

"I guess so! I mean we really won't know how this will effect him until we see a change or something, but I really hope this works." Steve grabbed Tony's hand. "I really want this to work."

Tony smiled, and gripped his husbands hand hard. "I know you do. And I hope so too."

"I'm sparing with him a few times a week from now on, and Tony! He looked so happy afterwards! He actually told me he felt like himself!"

Tony blinked for a moment. "Wow. Okay for him that is big."

"I know!" Steve resembled a child on Christmas morning with his enthusiasm.

"You love him don't you?" Tony asked.

"Well of course! He's our foster kid!" Steve blushed as he defended himself.

"You don't just want him as a foster kid anymore do you? You want him as our adopted son. Don't you?" Tony let the accusation hang in the air. "Sam too I'm guessing."

Steve sighed. "I know they're dad is still missing, and we have more than enough kids but-"

"It just feels right." Tony finished.

"Yeah. Tony, they are our sons. I know they want to go back with their dad but with what they've told us about him-" Steve paused and shook his head. "I don't want them leaving. We can keep them safe. We can give them a future! We will love them far more than that absent drunk ever could!"

"Hey!" Tony snapped. "We haven't met him, we don't know where he is. You know you can't say things like that. It's not fair to the man." He chided.

"I know." Steve got quiet. "They're just such good kids."

Tony wrapped his husband in a hug and kissed his shoulder. "I know. I feel the same way. I would die for those boys in a heartbeat, same as Thor, Bruce, Loki, Nat and Clint. In everything but paper they are already our sons." Tony whispered


	14. Chapter 14

***WARNING*** The following chapter contains explicit consensual underage sex! Read at your own risk!

* * *

The next few days proved exceedingly busy, filled with recitals, football games and parent-teacher meetings, but Steve and Tony managed to keep an eye out for any behavioural changes in Dean. They were not disappointed.

Not only did Dean stop fidgeting, he smiled more, snarked less and was overall just a more pleasant fourteen year old.

"Are you kidding me?" Tony asked as the two were cleaning up from breakfast one day. "That's literally all it took was some exercise? Why the fuck is that all it took?"

Steve chuckled and hugged him from behind. "It's not like he's one hundred percent better, he still has trauma in his past that one sparring session doesn't even attempt to fix. Don't forget we're still waiting on that specialist Phil sent for to come in to talk to him."

After the last fateful therapy session, Phil Coulson reached out to the couple and told them he knew of someone that could replace her. He guaranteed that whoever they were would be able to stand Dean's… eccentric therapy habits.

"Yeah, but Steve." Tony turned to face the man. "He's so much happier."

Steve's face broke out into a smile. "So much happier. And his history teacher said he even stopped 'making a ruckus' the last few days!"

The two stood in thought, thinking about how far their boy has come.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, Bruce and Clint's therapists mentioned that they might benefit from a joint session. Something about shared experiences." Tony informed his husband.

"Sounds like a plan. Do they know?" Steve asked.

"Apparently they're supposed to introduce the idea this week and see how it goes."

"Any news on Thor, Nat or Loki?"

Tony shook his head. "Same old same old. Although no news is good news for Thor and Nat. And at least Loki isn't getting any worse. Last I heard he was walking again, so we're one step closer to bringing him home."

Steve nodded. "That will be a magnificent day. To have the family together at last."

* * *

"I'm fine, I don't need therapy."

"No you're not, and yes you do."

"I'm fine."

"No one goes through what you did and are just 'fine' afterwards."

"Yeah? Well I am. Deal with it baby cakes."

"Cut the bullshit Dean."

"Bullshit? Aren't you supposed to be child therapist? How would the parents react if they knew you were so crass? Or are you just being naughty for me?"

"First off, you're fourteen. That's gross. And you don't need me to hold your hand. You've seen shit and you need to talk about it."

"I don't need to do shit lady! I don't know who you are, but-"

"You've been at war ever since you were four years old." That shut Dean up. He looked at his therapist with wide eyes.

"My dad left a year and a half ago. What are you talking about."

"Your mom died when you were four in a house fire right?" She inquired. Demeanor completely different from before. Dean relaxed. Of course that's what she was talking about.

"Yeah. And what of it? I hardly even remember her, how the hell could that relate to anything-"

"Because after that your dad introduced you to the supernatural."

Dean snapped his eyes up to the lady. A Dr. Mills. Tony said she was recommended for him and Sam by-

"Phil. Phil told you. That is so-I can't believe he would-so irresponsible! Does he even realize-"

"Phil didn't tell me anything. I actually knew your dad, John."

Dean stopped his ranting. "What?"

"He saved me a few years back, my husband and child got turned into zombies. Not fun." She looked Dean straight in the eye as she told him.

"So Phil-"

"Knows that I know. And knows that you can't go to a regular therapist, so here I am."

"You a hunter?"

"Locally. If anything threatens my town I threaten them sort of thing. But I don't actively seek out trouble."

"So you know that hunters don't 'talk' about their 'shit'. Hell, the only therapy I saw my dad do was called whiskey. Tequila if it was a bad night. We don't do good feelings and fuzzy warm hugs."

"You ever drink?" She asked him, her voice void of any judgments, as if she couldn't care less about the answer.

"Yeah. Stole some beers and whiskey from my dad once in a while. One time I chugged a vodka bottle at a party, fun night. The girl I was with was certainly impressed." He winked at Dr Mills.

"You mean you had sex with this girl?" She asked in the same tone.

Dean licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."

"So you're a virgin."

"Woah!" Dean sat back up quickly. "The fuck I am! Here did you get that from?"

"How old were you when you had sex for the first time?"

Dean sputtered. "You don't play around here lady. But fine. Twelve. Sweet sixteen year old named Martha." Dean seemed to settle in again as he recalled the intimate details of the encounter. "She was smoking! Legs for days and a pussy so tight it took more than one try to get it in." Dean winked again.

"You were twelve. With a sixteen year old. And are you proud of that?"

"Proud?" Dean scoffed. "Lady, that's my crowning achievement! Until I lay a playboy that is."

Dr Mills sighed. "I recall reading that you have a foster brother named Clint that's twelve. Is that right?" She asked.

"Yeeeaaahh. What of him."

"Do you think he's old enough to be having sex Dean?"

The question threw Dean. "Um. I-I don't- I mean-"

"Simple question Dean."

"Well he's different! He's just a kid! I'm not!" Dean argued.

"Yes. You've had to grow up a lot Dean. More than any child should have to. But it doesn't matter how mature you feel, you were Clint's age. With someone four years older."

Dean opened his mouth to argue again, but nothing came out. He struggled to find words for a moment before standing up and walking out of the room. Steve was seated in the waiting area reading a book as Dean stormed out.

"We're leaving." The teen growled.

Steve looked up at the teen, and upon seeing his expression, merely nodded and closed his book.

* * *

Fuck this was the life. What did that idiot woman know anyways? He could have sex if he wanted to!

Dean was currently in school. More specifically in the room above the gym stage that was known for being 'the couples spot'. Honestly the school should've locked the door as soon as they put a couch in it, what did they think was gonna happen?

"Ugh, please, please!"

Oh, right. Back to the matter at hand, or, dick.

"Shh, I gotcha sweetheart, I got ya." Dean bent down and kissed Becky Walters, a cheerleader a grade older than him. He knew she was loose and that's why he went for her. Returning his attention to the girl, he rubbed her back through her shirt and slowly moved it down to the cleft of her ass, kissing her thoroughly all the while.

Becky clutched at his shirt, pulling her closer to him. With one hand at her ass, Dean used the other to start fondling her breast, paying special attention to where her nipple would be under her bra.

Becky moaned into his mouth and started moving her ass against Dean's hand. The teen started to kiss and lick down the girls throat, biting lightly underneath her ear and at her collarbone, causing her to mewl in pleasure.

"Please Dean." She panted, arching into him.

Dean smirked at her. "Told you I'd have you begging."

"Better get to it then." The girl snarked right back.

Abandoning her ass for the moment, Dean worked on lifting the girls incredibly tight shirt. The moment her flesh was in view Dean started kissing and biting her stomach, even going far enough to tongue the inside of her belly button as he gazed at her through his eyelashes.

This caused Becky to grip Deans hair. Hard.

As he worked himself upwards, he reached behind her to undo her bra, which, no surprise, he got in one snap. Becky fumbled for a minute actually removing her shirt completely and removing her bra before Dean attacked her breasts with his mouth and hands.

He sucked and pinched and twisted and drank in her moans and gasps until he felt her rolling her pelvis against him. He stopped with a gentle bite on her left nipple and looked at her while he unbuttoned her jeans.

He kept eye contact as he pulled them down her legs and over her feet.

When Becky's jeans were thrown across the room, Dean returned to lick the inside of her mouth, rubbing one finger down her wet thong. Damn. A fucking thong!

He pushed the skimpy fabric to the side and ran his finger down her folds with one hand and pinched her nipples with the other.

"You got a condom?" She panted into his mouth.

"Someone thinks they're getting some." Dean teased, his finger now rubbing right over Becky's hole.

"I better be getting some or I'll hold you down and sit on you face instead." Becky teased back, making Dean moan and his hips jump.

"Yeah I got a condom."

"Good. But you are wearing way too many clothes." Becky started pushing up Deans shirt until he threw it across the room to join her jeans. He then stepped off the couch and pulled down his jeans to let them pool on the floor before letting him boxers fall to the ground.

Dean's erection stood tall, ready for the job he had ahead, twitching in anticipation. He rolled on the condom and climbed back on top of Becky, setting his fingers back to rubbing at her entrance, slowly pushing a finger inside and-

"I told you they were in here!"

Voices came from behind them. The two sprung to cover themselves with strewn clothing.

Shit.


	15. Chapter 15

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Tony shouted.

The ride home from the school was silent. Dean was scared to move a muscle the entire way. When they got home however, Tony couldn't even wait until they reached Steve's office.

"Seriously? Sex on school property, during school hours?!" Tony continued.

Steve and Tony had both shown up at the principal's office to take him home, Dean didn't think he'd ever felt as ashamed in his entire life as he did when he saw their faces.

"Tony, take a breath. Calm down." Steve reached for Tony's arm but it was quickly pulled away.

"Calm down? Did you hear the same thing I did? Dean. Fourteen year old Dean. Sex instead of going to math! And that's another thing!" Tony whipped back to Dean. "You skipped class to do it! What the fuck were you thinking!"

"I was thinking she was hot." Dean muttered.

"She was- excuse me? That's your defense? 'She was hot?'"

"**Tony**." Steve used his Captain voice and Tony immediately stopped and his full attention was on his husband. "Sit. Down."

Not only did Tony find a seat, but the command also worked on Dean as they both sat in the front sitting room. Steve ran a hand over his hair, making the blond strands stick out random ways.

"Look. You clearly know we're upset." Steve started as he sat beside Dean. "But why don't you tell us what was going through your head?"

"We know what was going through his head Steve! Or rather what was going through his other head-"

"**Tony**. If you cannot remain calm we're gonna pause and try this again when you are. Understood?" Steve once again got his husband to listen to him as he piped down and nodded his head. "Now Dean. Your turn. Tell us what happened."

Dean smirked. "Well if you want a play-by-play, I-"

"**No**. I don't want to know **what** happened, I want to know why you did it."

The smirk disappeared. The teen hung his head as he felt the eyes of the men bore into him.

"I-" the men were quiet as they let the boy find the words. "I don't-" Dean ran a hand down his face. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I just-I guess I just needed-to feel good? To-to feel-connected? I don't know! I just-I-" Dean's breathing picked up as he was talking.

Steve dropped a hand on Dean's back and started to soothe the boy. "Shh, it's alright, just breathe. Take your time."

The only sound was Dean's rough breathing. He was bent over with his head almost at his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Steve kept rubbing the teen's back and whispering words of reassurance. Tony, for the first time, was calm. He watched Dean struggle to breathe and his anger disappeared as quickly as it came.

Dean's breath began to even out, though Steve's hand nor words never slowed.

"That's it Dean. Deep breaths, you got it. You're doing so good sweetheart, keep breathing." Steve paused as Dean sat back against the couch once more. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Better." He took a deep breath, his voice still shaking slightly. "I'm sorry-I-"

"Don't you dare apologize." Tony's voice cut sharply through the room.

"Dean has this ever happened before?" Steve asked.

The teen shook his head, then paused, before nodding slightly. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?" Tony questioned.

"It's never been quite so bad before, but I-yes."

"Dean, darling, do you know what just happened?" Steve asked as he started stroking the boys hair.

Dean shook his head. "Just felt like I was dying."

"It's called a panic attack. And they suck balls." Tony explained.

"Tony!" Steve chided.

"If I weren't an alcoholic and you weren't a minor I'd be offering you some liquor right about now."

"Tony!"

Dean smiled. "Hey, I'll still take some if you've got any."

Steve shook his head and shot a glance to his husband. "Bottom line. Those are unfortunately quite common, and one of the reasons Tony and I go to therapy, to learn how to avoid and control them."

"Ugh. That's what started this in the first place!" Dean threw his head back against the couch in exasperation.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"Dr Mills said I was too young to be having sex. Asked me how I felt if Clint started, which, ew. And-I-she got in my head and I wanted to prove her wrong, I guess" Dean admitted.

"So, you had sex in school, because your therapist told you you shouldn't." Tony clarified.

Dean laughed. "Yeah. Guess that wraps it up."

"And how are you feeling now? After everything?" Steve inquired.

"Well I wish we could've at least finished before getting caught."

"Dean." Steve warned.

"I know, I know." Dean but his lip, thinking. "I-I don't think I agree with Dr Mills."

"Oh? Why not?" Steve wasn't expecting that response.

"Because it felt really good. And if it feels really good, it can't be bad, right?" He asked his foster parents.

Steve and Tony looked at each other and collectively took a bracing breath. Tony stood and moved to sit on the couch on the other side of Dean.

"Look Dean," Tony reached for the teen's hand. "Just because something feels good, doesn't mean it's good for us. My body aches for things it can't have every day and it sucks! But if I have those things they'll kill me. Does that make sense?"

"But that's different! Sex isn't like drug or alcohol, they can't poison me!" Dean defended. Tony squeezed Dean's hand and sighed.

"I was eleven when I was started college. I started drinking at twelve and taking drugs at thirteen. I had sex for the first time when I thirteen with a nineteen year old. At the time I thought it made me cool. That I was an adult that could make my own decisions." Tony placed his hand under Deans chin and held his gaze to his own. "It wasn't until years later that I mourned my innocence. I was thirteen! What the hell did I know about life and love? That girl couldn't have cared less about me and it nearly destroyed me looking back on it."

Dean could see that Tony's eyes were becoming glassy with unshed tears.

"I'll be damned if I let you feel the same." Tony took his hand back from Dean's chin and joined it with the other around Dean's hand. "I'm not saying don't have sex. I'm saying have sex with someone you care about, and someone who cares about you. Trust me, I've done the research and it makes a world of difference."

Dean was quiet as he stared at Tony, Steve once more rubbing his back. The teen nodded slowly.

"I don't- I don't really understand exactly what you mean, but I trust your experience. And I trust that you're looking out for me." He finally spoke.

An alarm suddenly broke the quiet and all three jumped at the sound.

"Oh shoot, I have to go pick up the kids from school!" Steve looked at his phone and shut off the reminder.

"You go, I'll stay here and keep Dean company. That alright sport?" Tony asked the boy. Dean nodded and smiled at the man.

"Alright. I'll be back soon." Steve stood up and kissed Dean's head. "You sure you're alright, love?" Dean nodded. "Okay. Twenty minutes, tops." He called out.

Dean heard Steve keys jingle before the door shut behind him. Did Steve just call him love?


	16. Chapter 16

Tony and Dean were still sitting on the couch when the front door swung open and Nat came barreling in.

"Becky Walters? Seriously? She's my age! That's disgusting Dean, you pervert!" She shouted at her foster brother.

"Nat!" Tony chided.

Dean stood and marched right up to the sixteen year old.

"She didn't think it was disgusting when I had my fingers up her-"

"Dean!" Tony shouted, cutting him off.

The two teens stared at each other, no further than three feet apart, before Nat pounced on him.

Dean thought he could fight, but he was nothing compared to Nat. It was all he could do to defend himself as she punched, kicked and tried her damndest to get him down.

"Nat!" Someone screamed.

"Dean!" That was Sammy. Dean knew that scream no matter what and Sammy needed him.

Unfortunately, the one second he turned to look for his brother was the one second Nat needed and she caught him with a blow to his chest, bringing him to the ground. Nat jumped on top of him and was about to cause him further pain before her weight was lifted from him rather suddenly.

Dean opened his eyes and saw Thor with a struggling Nat in his arms, fighting him to get to Dean.

Tony ran and was kneeling by Deans head. "Dean are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

Dean slowly shook head, watching Nat glare at him with murderous eyes.

"Great job Thor, we've got our hands full at the moment, can you please bring Nat to the gym? Maybe help her work it out?" Steve was talking very gently and quietly. "Tony? Bruce needs your help right now, I'll tend to Dean."

Thor all but threw Nat over his oversized shoulder and marched off into the hall. Bruce on the other hand was still standing in the front entrance. His head was down, fingers twisted in the bottom of his jacket as he shifted his weight from side to side.

Tony brushed his hand through Deans hair then stood to help Bruce. As Steve made his way over to Dean, the teen saw that Tony was talking quietly to Bruce.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam ran and nearly tackled his brother in a hug.

"Oof. Well if I wasn't, you collapsing on top of me isn't gonna help, ya dork." Dean teased as he hugged his brother back. "I'm just fine Sammy. You know I'm invincible!"

"Sam, I need you to let go of Dean so I can make sure he's really okay and not just being a macho man." Steve was smiling as he helped Sam off the older teen. "Sam, Clint, why don't the two of you start your homework?"

"No thank you Steve. I want to stay with Dean." Sam didn't even glance at Steve as he watched Dean sit up.

"Yeah papa, I'm gonna stay right here." Clint hadn't moved from his spot and his face was white as a sheet.

"Alright Dean, take a deep breath for me." Steve had his hands on either side of Dean's ribcage, assessing his breathing. "Any pain?" Dean shook his head. "Okay, well I don't think anything's broken, you'll have to thank Thor for reacting so quickly or that might not have been the case."

"I'm sorry about her!" Clint shouted suddenly.

Dean looked at Clint in confusion. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know, she's my sister and she hurt you and-I-I'm sorry Dean!" Clint's whole demeanour was completely different from the usual boisterous prankster the boys had met. In his place stood a small boy, his head hanging low and feet shuffling, as if he couldn't decide whether to run or stay put.

Steve went to reach for the child, but Dean was faster. He launched himself to his feet and knelt in front of Clint, trying to catch his eye.

"Hey. Hey Clint. I want you to look at me. Can you do that?" Dean was speaking low and grazed his fingertips at Clint's wrists. "Clint please I want to say something to you and I need you to look at me when I say it."

Clint lifted his head slightly.

"Good job Clint, thank you. Now listen very carefully. You do not have to apologize for what Nat did. She is her own person who makes her own decisions and if she feels she wants to apologize to me, she will. You did absolutely nothing wrong Clint. Do you hear that? You did nothing wrong and you never have to apologize when you didn't do anything. Okay?" Dean explained to the boy softly, holding one of his hands and rubbing his other hand down Clint's arm. "Do you understand?"

Clint nodded, then wrapped Dean in a tight hug. Both Steve and Sam could see Dean tense, then melt into the hug, pulling Clint close before letting go.

"Now. I believe your papa told you to do your homework. You better get on it so you can beat the next level of your game tonight! If you don't I will!" Dean teased as Clint chucked. Clint headed towards the stairs with a small smile towards his father.

"That was really good Dean." Steve spoke. Dean was still kneeling, facing away from Steve and his brother.

"Dean?" Sam called out.

"You better join him Sammy, you know he needs help with his spelling." Dean smiled at his brother before shooing him up the stairs.

"I'm really proud of you Dean."

Dean shrugged. "I may not know much, but I know how to deal with scared little brothers."

Steve placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Yes, you do. And now that your little brothers are gone, how are you really?"

The teen shook his head. "Why did she attack me? I know I was being a shit, and anywhere else I would've expected it, but- "

"I can't pretend to know what's in Natasha's mind. But we can ask her. How about we go to the gym and check up on her? Both Thor and I will be there to intervene should she want to hurt you again. Hopefully we can figure out what happened." Steve suggested.

Dean nodded. "Hey, where did Tony go?"

The man sighed. "Do you remember how we said that Bruce sometimes gets meltdowns?"

"I caused him to have one? I'm so sorry!" Dean immediately apologized.

"Hey, no it's no ones fault. I think it was just a lot happening a little too fast and too loud for him. Tony is the best one to help calm him down so I'm guessing the two went to Bruce's room for a bit." Steve gave Dean his reassurance.

"Now," The blonde man stood up and held a hand out for Dean. "How's your courage level? We're about to check on an angry Russian redhead with martial arts training. You ready?" He teased.

Dean smiled and took the offered hand. "Only if you go in first."


	17. Chapter 17

***A huge thank you to my new beta morrismsteph!***

* * *

"Natasha, sister, you need to breathe!" Thor coached his younger sister as she brutally attacked a punching bag in the gym.

"I don't. Need. To breathe." Nat's red, sweat-soaked hair clung to her face as she furiously punched the bag.

"Knock knock!" Thor could see his Papa's head poking around the corner of the door as he called out. "Nat? How you doing?"

The girl abandoned the punching bag and stormed towards her father, her eyes murderous. "You said I'd be safe here! How could you bring that disgusting, dangerous man into our house?!" Natasha screamed.

Dean's chest felt like it was collapsing. He was hiding just around the corner, like a coward. Of course she thought he was a monster, why wouldn't she? Everyone else thought he was a dangerous good-for-nothing, so that's what he was.

"Disgust–? Natasha, what are you talking about?" Steve blinked in confusion.

"He took advantage of that girl! How dare he?!"

Steve froze.

"Natasha, what do you mean he took advantage of her?" He spoke calmly and carefully, as if approaching a wild animal.

"What do you think it means?!"

"Natasha," Steve dropped to a knee to look Natasha in the eye, "Did Becky say something to you?"

"Does it matter? It's–"

"I would never!" Dean interrupted. He was now standing in the doorway, the need to defend himself greater than his fear of the redhead. "You have to believe me, Steve, I would never! She wanted it! I–"

"She wanted it?! Just because you wanted it, you–" Natasha was grabbed around the middle by her father before she could storm over to the boy.

Steve gestured for Thor to continue restraining Natasha then beckoned Dean to come closer.

"Now, Dean," Steve placed a hand on his shoulder as he looked him dead in the eye, "how do you know she really wanted it? What did she say or do to tell you she wanted it?"

All four were silent as Dean thought over the frenzy of the past few hours.

"She–uh, well, she was kissing me–"

"That doesn't–"

"Natasha, please," Steve hushed the girl. "What else?"

"I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere more private, and she nodded."

"Okay, what else?" the man prompted.

"She–" Dean glanced at the man and his two foster siblings before hanging his head and saying as quickly as he could, "She was begging me to keep going, not to stop, to go faster. And she asked if I had a condom."

The boy's face was red in embarrassment, his hands fidgeting in his jeans as he revealed the details to his pseudo siblings. Steve smiled and squeezed Dean's shoulder before turning back to Natasha.

"You see? I think it was consensual. However, you can always ask Becky if you don't believe Dean," Steve explained to his daughter. "If she says anything that makes you think otherwise, tell us right away, and we'll revisit this discussion."

The girl's brows were pulled together in thought. "But–why would she–?" Nat took a deep breath and started again, "Dr. Hill says that sex is something meant to be shared with someone you love and trust. Becky doesn't know Dean. How could she want it?"

"Dr. Hill is right–that is absolutely what sex is. However, for some people, it can just be about having fun." If Steve felt uncomfortable talking about freewheeling sex to his daughter, he didn't show it. The man was a pillar of strength for his children in that moment. "Do you remember the story that went around about dad a couple years ago? The video that was leaked?"

Both Thor and Natasha cringed at the memory.

"The person he was with didn't know him that well, but the sex was consensual. The recording wasn't, but that's for another time," Steve rambled. "The point is–sex is better with someone you know, love, and trust. But it doesn't have to be. Does that make sense?"

Natasha thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"Okay, let me–"

"Steve? Can I try?" Dean's voice was small, interrupting the man. Steve nodded and gestured for Dean to go ahead.

"Okay, so, uh," he stammered, not knowing where to start. "So, sex." His face was beet red. "For me, sex isn't some beautiful experience to share with someone else. It's–it feels good. And–and it gets me out of my head for a little while, to–to completely focus on someone else and know that it's because of me that they're feeling good, that it's because of me that they make noises and beg for more.

"It feels good to be wanted, to be pulled closer instead of pushed away. It's–it's an experience that _needs_ to be with someone I don't know. Because if they do know me, they wouldn't want me so close."

The boy's head hung so low, his words were beginning to muffle. Steve ran a hand down Dean's back in an attempt to comfort his son.

"So, Nat, does that make sense?" Steve asked again.

Natasha eyed Dean warily. "No," she replied, "but I'll talk to Becky before school tomorrow. And I have an appointment with Dr. Hill tomorrow night, so I'll see what she thinks."

"That sounds very reasonable, Natasha. Well done," Steve praised the girl.

"Aye, you've reigned in your aggression marvellously. Dr. Sif always tells me to ask myself why I am angry and what can be done instead of violence to rectify the situation. I believe you've taken these words to heart, fierce Natasha," Thor congratulated his sister, loosening his hold on the girl. "And if you ever have need to ask questions about making love and do not wish to talk to our parents or your therapist, know I am always available!"

Nat pushed her big brother away. "Ew, Thor! I don't want to know about _your_ sex life, too!" Although her voice was disgusted, a small smile crept onto her face at the man's antics.

"But why not? Jane is a wonderful lover and–"

"Oh my god, stop!" The girl covered her ears and started laughing, as did Dean and Steve.

_Yeah_, Steve thought, _this_ _is_ _gonna_ _work._


	18. Chapter 18

"Dean, are you really okay?" Sam asked as the two were getting ready for bed.

"Of course, Sammy. You know me! Nothing's gonna get me down!" Dean reassured his little brother.

"Why did Nat attack you? Is she a monster?"

Dean threw his head back and laughed at the innocence of the question. "No, Sammy, she's not a monster. We just had a disagreement, and as always, your big bro came out on top!"

Sam gave Dean his ever-powerful bitch face. "She knocked you flat on your butt."

"I meant in the argument, you little shit!" The teen threw a pillow at his giggling brother. "Plus, Nat would give even dad a run for his money. That girl's scary."

Sam suddenly went quiet. "Dean? Do you think dad's still gonna come for us?"

Dean's smile fell. "What do you mean? He always comes back for us, right? What makes this time any different?"

"It's been two years, Dean. What if–what if he doesn't want us anymore?" Sam was focusing intently on the pillow in his hands, gripping it so tightly Dean could see the boy's knuckles start to go white.

"Hey, hey!" Dean walked over to Sam and pulled his little brother into a crushing hug. "I know you and dad had your differences, but he loves you. He would never _not_ want you. Hell, Sammy, every adult you even smile at loves you!"

Sam took a deep breath and pushed Dean away.

"Thanks, Dean, I guess I'm just worried. I'm gonna go to bed now. Good night."

"Do you need me to sit with you until you fall asleep?" he offered, knowing that the boy wasn't even close to okay.

"No. I'll be fine." Sam crawled into bed and pulled the covers over himself. "Turn the light off, will you?"

Dean's heart hurt, watching his little brother in pain. "Yeah, Sammy. Of course." He switched off the light then got into his own bed. "I'm sure dad's gonna come for us any day now," he spoke to the dark room.

Sam didn't respond.

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep, not with leaving things like that with Sam. He listened for the boy's breathing to confirm he was, indeed, asleep, then quietly threw off his covers, grabbed his phone, and went to the bathroom.

Once in the privacy of the bathroom, Dean dialled one of the two numbers he knew by heart.

"Come on, Bobby, pick up," he whispered as he brought the phone to his ear. Dean figured that if anyone knew where their dad was, it was Bobby. However, the phone didn't even have a chance to ring. Instead, an automated voice could be heard saying that the number was "no longer in service," and to try again. So he did. And he tried again. And again. And again.

Dean started to panic. Bobby's number never changed. Ever. He always said that he was the one constant in the hunting world, that anyone who needed help could get it if they phoned his number.

But the number changed.

The teen took a deep breath to calm himself, pushing away the immediate worry that something bad happened to the man they called their uncle. He started to come up with a plan.

He needed to get Bobby's new number, and to do that, he needed to talk to someone actively in the hunting world.

Dr. Mills? No, she said she only hunted what came near her town, so she probably wouldn't be a part of the network.

Pastor Jim? Dean didn't know his number either.

Then Dean remembered the emergency phone that would connect him to Mr. Coulson. It was sitting in his desk drawer. But no. This wasn't an emergency, and there was no guarantee that the man even knew Bobby.

Dean tried to think of another option, but only one came to mind. Leaving the bathroom, Dean grabbed his laptop from his desk and settled in to do some research.

* * *

He had it all planned out. The next morning, while packing his bag for school, he put in a few extra supplies. Along with his textbooks, Dean's backpack now held a container of salt, the exorcism ritual, the rosary, a water bottle full of holy water, and the one knife he'd been allowed to keep. Thank god it was silver.

Dean figured that if he couldn't phone a hunter to get Bobby's new number, he'd find one instead.

He went looking for potential hunts in the nearby area, but unfortunately, there was nothing in New York City. If Dean had to guess, that was Mr. Coulson's doing.

He finally found a hunt half an hour away in Jersey City. It was obviously a werewolf case; there were reports of wild animal attacks in which the victims' hearts were missing. The killings had gone on long enough for hunters to catch wind of the situation, and nothing indicated that the carnage had stopped, so it was the perfect time and place to stake out some hunters!

"Dean, that backpack looks heavier than usual today. Got any big projects due?" Steve asked as everyone climbed into the vehicle to start the morning commute.

"Yeah, stupid science," was Dean's response, which got the reaction he was hoping for when both Sam and Bruce took offense and started to explain why science wasn't 'stupid, it's the building blocks of life! How can that not be fascinating?'

This continued until Steve dropped Sam and Clint off at the middle school, the boys offering cheerful farewells before racing to the school's entrance. He then drove the short distance to the connected high school where Nat and Dean hopped out, both only throwing up a hand in farewell.

"Dean!" Steve called from the car. The teenager sighed and turned around to see the man gesturing for him to come back.

"What?"

"Now that everyone's had a chance to calm down, I think we should talk a little more about what happened yesterday when you get home." The man looked over Dean for a moment then said, "You don't need to worry, nothing bad is going to happen. I just want to make sure you're okay. Okay?"

Dean nodded, eyeing his shoes while stuffing his hands in his pockets.

With a discouraged sigh, Steve sent the boy off with a cheerful "Have a good day," and Dean ran off towards the front door.

The teen knew he was lucky that Tony donated a ton of money to the school, or he probably would've been suspended after the stunt he pulled yesterday. He only hoped that would save him from another punishment after he skipped class today.

Once he saw Steve drive off to NYU with Bruce and Thor, Dean pulled out his phone and called a cab. Thank god for the allowance money Steve and Tony gave him every week. With the amount he'd saved up, Dean had more than enough to get to New Jersey and back.

Now he just had to find the hunters.


	19. Chapter 19

Fucking fuckity fucking fuck.

Dean clutched at his side and felt the blood sticking to his shirt. Fuck, it hurt. He didn't quite arrive at the hunt when he planned to; instead, he found the hunter just starting to take on the pack of werewolves. He couldn't just _not help_. And what did he get for it? Thrown across an old barn and through a wall.

The teen quickly assessed his injuries as the hunter started to burn the bodies further down the field.

Pounding in his skull, as if he had been hit by a train: probable concussion; monitor for signs of unconsciousness.

Blood on his left rib cage: surface wound from when he went through the wall; will need stitches and an alcohol cleanse.

Pain on his upper right arm: bruise from where the werewolf grabbed him; no treatment required.

Pain on his lower left arm: bruise from where the hunter saved his neck and pulled him out of the way; no treatment required.

"So, now that we're not in immediate danger, why don't you tell me why a kid is going on a werewolf hunt by himself. And how the hell did you even get out here?" the hunter asked Dean, not seeing a single mode of transportation that could've brought the boy to the outskirts of the city.

"Bartender gave me a lift. I told her you were my uncle, and she said you were looking into this place, so she dropped me off. And I'm not a kid, I'm almost an adult," Dean argued.

"Almost means not," the man scoffed. "Now tell me why you're here. The truth, too. I know when someone's lying to me."

"I need Bobby Singer's new number," Dean explained. "Please tell me you know it."

The man eyed Dean warily. "Why do you need it?"

"Because–because–Look. I'm trying to find my dad, and Bobby is the only one who would even know where to start looking." Dean sagged down the tree he was leaning against. His injuries really fucking hurt.

The man sighed, reached into his pocket, and threw something towards Dean. Reflex alone had him catching the object before it could hit him in the face.

"Pills?" Dean examined the bottle.

"Painkillers. Keep the bottle, you'll need them with the hit you took. They're pretty strong, but I'm sure you've had worse, right, Dean?"

The teen's head shot up so fast it took a moment for the world to stop spinning. "How do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows John Winchester, and his sons Sam and Dean, and you're too old to be Sam. I also happen to know that no one's seen John in a while." The man stuck his hand out in greeting. "The name's Rufus. Bobby and I go way back."

Dean slowly shook the man's hand as he took in the information.

"No one's seen my dad?"

Rufus sighed. "Sorry, kid. Not in a while. Although I haven't asked Bobby, he might know more than I do. You got a pen?"

Dean nodded and went to his backpack to retrieve one, while the man pulled an old receipt from his pocket.

Rufus wrote down the number from memory and returned the pen. "I really hope you find him, Dean. He's a bastard, but no kid deserves to be without a dad."

Dean didn't have a response for the man, so he gave him a forced smile and shoved the receipt into his bag. "Thanks, Rufus, and thanks for the–" He shook the bottle of painkillers in lieu of finishing the sentence.

"Yup. Need a ride back into town?" The hunter shrugged off the thanks in typical hunter fashion.

"Yeah, if you can. I'll catch a cab from there." Dean climbed into the man's truck, wincing at the pain in his side.

"For fuck's sake, take the damn pills, kid," Rufus scolded as he started the truck. Dean popped open the cap and downed three pills dry, too distracted by the prospect of finally getting some information on his dad to fully consider how many he was taking. Besides, the hunt was over and he was in pain, dammit! It wasn't until he was in the cab headed back to school that he realized three might've been too many.


	20. Chapter 20

Dean paid the cab driver and waved off the guy's concern when he mentioned the dried blood on the teen's shirt. Walking into the school, Dean stumbled. The painkillers were no joke, but at least he didn't hurt anymore. The pills killed the pain. Ha, that was funny! What was he doing?

Right. First things first: clean up the blood. Dean always kept a spare change of clothes in his locker, so a quick stop and he was headed to the bathroom for a patch job.

It was a miracle that the boy managed as well as he did to clean up the excess blood; tape some paper towels around the side wound; and change into the new, bloodless shirt. Gripping the sink, Dean looked himself over in the mirror and could hardly tell he'd fought with werewolves.

He dumped the bloodied shirt in the trash and started making his way to his next class. What was his next class? What time was it?

Dean tried looking for a clock, but all he could find were stickers that looked like clocks where he knew the old clocks were. Maybe if he stared hard enough, one would turn back into a real clock so he could figure out what the time was and where he needed to be.

"Dean?"

"Shh. We gotta be quiet."

"Why do we have to be quiet, Dean?"

"Because the clock isn't gonna come back if we scare it off."

"Dean, can you look at me, please?"

The teen turned his head towards the voice and saw a woman. Dean's eyebrows pressed together as he struggled to figure out who she was. "Math. You're math!" he said excitedly.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked. Why was she so close to him?

"I figured out who you are! You're math!"

"I am your math teacher, Dean, that's right. Now, why don't we go for a walk?" She offered him her arm, and Dean gave her a huge smile and wrapped his arm around it.

"Are we off on an adventure?" he asked.

"If you'd like," was her response. Dean thought hard for a moment.

"I don't think I want an adventure. I just came from one, and I didn't really like it."

"I can imagine." The two made their way into the main office of the school, and the woman directed Dean towards a row of chairs. "Have a seat now, dear, take a break from your adventure."

"Gee, thanks, Miss!" Dean plopped himself down in a chair and was suddenly fascinated with the carpet pattern. He blinked, and a man appeared. "Tony!"

The man did not look as happy to see Dean as Dean was to see him. The engineer was wearing a tank top, jeans, and sneakers and had goggles pushed up into his hair. His arms and face were covered in a black substance. Clearly, he had been experimenting in the workshop before he came.

Tony bent down to kneel in front of Dean and look him in the eye. "Dean, what did you take?"

Dean looked at the man in confusion. "What?"

The man sighed. "What did you take, Dean? I need to know."

"Take? I took an adventure! I didn't like it, though."

"You–for heaven's–Dean, I know you're high as a fucking kite right now. What drugs did you take?" Tony was angry. _Shit, Tony was angry._

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle. Tony quickly snatched the pills and immediately poured a couple tablets into his hand.

"Be careful, Tony, they're really strong," Dean warned. He didn't want Tony to accidentally get addicted again. That wouldn't be fun.

"Seriously? Fucking codeine? This is like the most addictive painkiller, Dean! What the fuck were you thinking?" Tony was really angry now.

"I'm sorry, Tony." The apology came out in a whisper.

"Yeah...I bet you are," Tony sighed. "Come on, we're going home." He stood up and waited for Dean to find his balance before heading to the car that was parked haphazardly in front of the school.

Tony opened the passenger door. "Get in."

"I don't think I like this adventure either," Dean whispered as he climbed into the seat.

Tony slammed the door and walked around the car to get in on the driver's side. After putting on his seatbelt, Tony glanced at Dean and saw that the boy was having trouble with his own.

"For fuck's sake." The man reached over and fastened the thing for the teenager that was now staring out the window.

"Why would you do this, Dean? There was no record of drugs in your file. We did everything we were supposed to, we've handled every obstacle you've thrown at us, but this?! Why the fuck would you do drugs?!" Tony was borderline yelling at Dean as he drove them back to the house.

"I fucking–I fucking knew this would happen! I told Steve that seven is too many! That we needed to think about the other kids, how you would affect them, but no! No, he just had to get attached to the stupid fucking pictures," Tony was muttering to himself now, completely unaware that he was speaking aloud for Dean to overhear.

The teen's heart broke. He was so excited to see Tony, and–the man doesn't even want him? He probably never wanted Dean. He's a fourteen-year-old with problems a mile high–of course, he didn't want him. None of his foster parents ever wanted him; they showed him just how much with their words, their fists and their belts. Not to mention when they made him serve his 'only useful purpose.'

Without him, Sammy could've found a loving foster home in half the time. Hell, even his dad only saw Dean as a reminder of his mom and a babysitter for Sam. A lot of the time Dean wondered if his dad ever wanted him in the first place, or if it was his mom that wanted kids and then his dad just got stuck with him.

Tony was too busy muttering to notice the single tear run down Dean's face.


	21. Chapter 21

A huge thanks to my beta morrismsteph!

* * *

Tony pulled the car into the garage. After closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he turned to look at Dean...who apparently hadn't noticed their arrival.

"Dean, we're home." The teen continued to stare out the window. Tony sighed and started shaking Dean's shoulder, jumping back when the boy reacted suddenly–he flinched violently away from the touch, pressed himself against the door of the car, and watched Tony with wide eyes.

The man froze, aware that the slightest of movements could set off the teen. Hell, Dean probably didn't even know where he was right now.

"Dean, you're safe. We just pulled into the garage, and now we need to get out of the car. How about we get you into bed? Would you like that?" Tony spoke gently, approaching Dean as he would a young child or perhaps a skittish deer.

Dean nodded and opened the car door. He started to climb out but stopped when he got caught in the seatbelt. The teen stared at the strap in confusion, like he couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Let's get that off you, eh, sport?" Tony reached out and unbuckled the safety feature, then watched as Dean slowly unraveled himself and climbed out of the car.

"Okay, off to bed now, Dean." The man exited the car himself and guided his son through the house until the boy collapsed face down onto his mattress.

"Oh no, that is not a good idea," Tony said, hearing Dean groan as the man started to shift the boy onto his side. "We are not having you choke if you puke. Not a good experience, I can tell you. I'm gonna be right back, Dean, okay? If you need me, just yell."

Dean was floating. He couldn't feel his head anymore, and that was weird. He understood Tony perfectly, though. _Why was he being so nice if he didn't want Dean?_

"Okay, Dean. I'm putting this bucket next to your bed; if you feel the need to puke, just lean over and have at 'er. I'm also putting a bottle of water on the nightstand. Do _not_ be shy about drinking it; nausea's a bitch, and it's better to have something in there.

"I think you have everything you need now. I really shouldn't be leaving you alone, but I still have the codeine in my pocket, and it's getting really hard not to take it myself. I'm going to go in the hall and call my sponsor really quick. If you need me, you just need to call for me, and I'll be here in a second.

"Can you nod to let me know you understand?" Dean slowly nodded his head. "Okay, then." Tony quickly left the room and shut the door, already dialing.

_Shit._ Tony was close to relapsing because of him–there was no way he would want Dean now. Forcing down his tears, the teen propped himself up until he could reach his backpack, which had been unceremoniously dumped beside his bed. After finding the paper with Bobby's number, he lay back down and tried to make the numbers stay still long enough to dial.

_Come on, Bobby, you really have to pick up now_, Dean thought as he listened to the line ring.

"Hello?"

"...Bobby?"

There was a long silence, then a sigh. "Dean. You sound rough, boy. What'd you get into this time?" The grizzly voice of the one and only Bobby Singer was music to the teen's ears.

Dean swore he could hear glasses clinking on the other end of the line.

"Bobby, do you know where Dad is?"

"No. No, I haven't heard from him or about him for a couple of years now." The man sounded tired–not as rough and gruff as Dean remembered.

"Oh." The line went quiet. "Bobby? Can you pick us up?" Tears started to well up once more. He wanted to be with someone that wanted him, and Bobby never said no to watching the boys.

"Dean," Bobby said. The man swallowed, followed by a dull thud. Dean knew that sound. It was the sound of a whiskey glass hitting a wooden table. "Are you in any danger?" Bobby asked.

The boy sniffed, attempting to keep from crying even harder. "I don't know," was his honest response.

"I saw you and Sam in the media, Dean. Seems some billionaire has taken in two more foster kids, and that makes interesting news or some shit. Are they hurting you?"

_Not yet_, Dean thought. "No."

"Have any creatures attacked you?"

Again, Dean replied, "No."

A long, deep sigh came from the phone. "Dean, this is your chance to get out of the life. You're still young; you've got your whole life ahead of ya! Carry holy water and a knife at all times, but forget we exist!"

Dean jerked upright, ignoring the blood rushing to his head. "What? No! Bobby, I'm not going to–"

"I'm telling you to. Play the rich kid game: go to college, buy a house, have kids–_have a life_!" Bobby didn't sound tired anymore; he sounded desperate. "If I could go back and make sure you never found out about any of this, I would do it, no question!"

"But Bobby–"

"Trust me, boy. Keep my number, but only call if you think someone's gonna die, or worse. You got that?"

"Bobby, I–"

"You got that, boy?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a few tears slip free. He nodded slowly, before remembering that Bobby couldn't see him. Dean cleared his throat, then whispered, "Yeah, Uncle Bobby. I got it."

Another deep sigh, paired with the sound of a bottle meeting glass once more. "Okay, Dean. You–you live the best life you can." The phone disconnected, and Dean dropped it to the bed, not caring to stop the flow of tears anymore.

Even Bobby didn't want him. His dad abandoned him, all of his foster parents hated the sight of him, and now even their Uncle Bobby didn't want him.

Dean let the hurt surround him. The pain that he never permitted himself to feel now coursed through him, every nerve on fire and every thought a razor blade. The codeine in his system only enhanced the sensations, smashing the mental walls that usually kept such emotion at bay.

Dean was in so much agony that through his tears, he never noticed Steve's soft words in his ear or the man's delicate fingers carding through his hair, easing him into slumber.


	22. Chapter 22

So sorry for the delay! I wish real life didn't get in the way of everything but what can you do…

I already have quite a few chapters written, and my beta's working as fast as she can! She says she's sorry for the wait!

* * *

It was dark. It was suffocatingly dark. Dean's heart was racing as he tried to figure out where he was.

A door opened and light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding the teen.

"Come 'ere, you!" a booming voice roared. Dean felt a bruising hand drag him through the doorway until he was thrown roughly back to the ground.

"This is 'ow you repay us?! We feed you, we clothe you, we keep a roof over your 'eads, and this is 'ow you treat us?!" the man screamed at him. Dean was still trying to orient himself, just managing to get on his hands and knees. _Why was he so dizzy?_

A half-eaten loaf of bread was thrown in front of him. At the sight of it, a memory came flooding back: where he was, who he was with. And the events that followed.

"You steal?! From me! 'Ow dare you?!" Dean was sent tumbling back to the floor by a stinging backhand. Cupping his cheek, the boy once again attempted to right himself, but the man decided to help him by grabbing a fistful of his short hair and yanking him up.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Sam was hungry, and our deal–" Dean found himself saying, despite knowing it would only anger the man further.

"I don' give a crap abou' our deal! If you live under my 'ouse, you gotta respect me!" With one hand still in Dean's hair, the man wrapped his other hand around the boy's throat, not tightly enough to cut off his circulation or airflow, but definitely enough to threaten it.

"Now, you gonna 'pologize, or am I gonna make you?"

Dean refused to show the man fear, but he gave him what he wanted. "I'm sorry, sir."

The scene shifted.

Dean's head was clear again, but his heart was still racing.

"I don't care if you're sorry, Dean! You left your brother alone!"

Dad.

"I was only gone for a minute–"

"A minute too long!" their dad snapped. They were in a motel room, Sam fast asleep in the far bed. "I get back and find a dark room with no one here to protect Sammy? Dean, that's literally your only job! Why the hell do I train you if–"

"But dad, I just went to get–"

"Excuse me?" John eyed his son dangerously.

Dean dropped his gaze. "Sorry, sir, it's just that I–"

"I don't want any excuses. I want your brother safe." John swiftly ended the conversation when he opened a bottle of whiskey and shut himself in the bathroom.

Dean stood there by himself, just as before, the room dark and Sam just five feet away, sleeping peacefully.

He wasn't alone, so why did he feel so lonely?

* * *

"–ean! Wake up! It's time for breakfast!" Dean vaulted upwards in his bed, knocking his pillow to the ground as he clutched the sweat-soaked sheets.

It took a moment for Dean to get his bearings. _A dream. Just a dream._

_Mostly._

The first man in his dream was Mr. Thornton, their third foster father. That'd been the last night he and Sam spent in that house. He'd called Mr. Wilson as soon as the asshole passed out.

The second part of the dream happened in Albuquerque. Upon hearing his dad's return, Dean had gone to fetch some ice for his dad's nightly whiskey. The boy really had only been gone a moment, but try telling that to the ex-marine.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam stood next to his bed, backpack swung over one shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, Sammy, I'm fine. Did you say breakfast?" The teen racked his memory. _What time was it?_

"Yeah, Steve and Tony said you weren't feeling well last night, so you went to bed really early. How are you feeling this morning?" Sam inquired, searching his brother for any signs of illness.

"Pfft, I'm fine! Fit as a fiddle!" Dean threw off the rest of his covers and attempted to stand. "Ah, mother–!" He curled in on himself when the action pulled at the wound in his side. _Fuck, he forgot about that_.

"Dean! Are you hurt?" Sam reached out to steady the teen.

"Nah, just a cramp. No need to be a worry wart, Samantha." Dean pushed aside the pain with a well-practiced ease and set about getting ready for school. "Why don't you head on down, and I'll join you in a bit?"

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't look too good." Dean shifted as Sam continued to stare at him intently.

"How many times do I have to tell you?! I'm fine! Now, go!" Dean aimed a mostly-empty water bottle at his brother, but the smaller boy shrieked and ducked out of the room before it could leave his hand.

His side really fucking hurt. Dean studied his shirt and eyed where it was stuck to his skin with dried blood, hissing when he touched it. Thank fuck for black shirts–he did not want to have to peel that off.

"Dean! Come on, pancakes are waiting!" Clint shouted up the stairs.

With a sigh, Dean threw on an oversized sweatshirt before checking himself in the mirror. Ignoring his bloodshot eyes, he scrubbed at the dry tear tracks, before giving up and grabbing his backpack. Taking a deep breath, and then wincing in pain at the mistake, Dean prepared himself to face rest of his foster family.


	23. Chapter 23

As always, I have to thank my wonderful beta morrismsteph for spending hours just expanding and editing this world I've created in my head and helped me put down in words!

* * *

The breakfast table was always a busy place in the Stark household. Every morning was exactly the same: Clint rushed to finish whatever homework he'd forgotten was due that day, Thor and Steve shoveled food into their mouths as if they hadn't eaten in months, and Tony collapsed against the counter near his coffee machine, hissing like an angry cat until his 'liquid of the gods' was available for consumption. Nat, of course, sat quietly at the table, the calm in the middle of the storm.

From their first morning with the family, Sam and Dean fit into this chaos seamlessly. Sam bombarded Bruce with questions about whichever textbook the college student had chosen to read that day, and Dean made himself useful, flipping pancakes onto the communal plate to ensure the stack never ran out.

This particular morning, however, held slight changes. Tony, already alert and holding a cup of coffee, was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when Dean came down. Meanwhile, Thor stood in Dean's usual spot–eating half the pancakes before they even reached the table, it would seem.

"Dean! I thought you were sick?" Bruce questioned when the teen entered. The 18-year-old was passing pancakes to Clint, who was already covered in syrup.

Tony raised an eyebrow at Dean's appearance. "He is. What are you doing out of bed?" Tony's voice was flat.

Steve stood up from the table. "You certainly look sick." The man reached out to check his temperature.

"I'm fine, Steve." Dean ducked, trying to avoid the hand headed for his forehead. Steve got him anyway, briefly touching Dean's heated skin with the back of his hand.

"Dean, you look like death, and you're burning up." Steve was using his 'dad' voice with those stupid, big blue eyes that held a hint of_ 'I know you're not really sick, but we're going to pretend you are.' _"You're not going to school today."

Clint's head popped up from the table. "I can stay home and take care of him! It will be a sacrifice, but anything to help out my brother!" he exclaimed, draping himself across his sister's lap in a show of dramatics.

"Nice try, mister. Good luck on your math quiz today," Tony chuckled as he ruffled Clint's hair. "I'll stay home with him this morning. I've got some meetings this afternoon, but I don't want to go to them anyway…"

Steve reached out to ruffle Tony's hair in jest. "Nice try, mister, but Pepper would have both our heads if I let you miss those meetings. I'll do my afternoon classes by video conference. I'm sure my students would love the excuse to stay in their pajamas."

Dean could feel the heat radiating off his wound and knew he was getting paler the longer he stood there. "It's okay, really! You don't have to take care of me! Go to work, both of you–I'll be fine! In fact, I'm not really sick! I'm fine to go school!"

Tony frowned and placed his mug on the table. Dean followed the man's hand with his eyes, preparing for Tony to finally snap. Tony noticed.

Slowly, so Dean could follow his movements, the man rested his hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, there's no way in hell you're going to school, and there's no way we're leaving you home alone today, either. Now, get up to bed, and I'll bring you some soup."

Dean looked from Tony, to Steve, and lastly to Sam, who was too busy asking Bruce about the swirly thing on the cover of a science textbook to notice the commotion. After a moment, he dropped his head in defeat and shuffled towards the stairs.

He really did feel awful. Every muscle ached, his head was pounding, his side screamed in agony, and with all the different smells in the kitchen, it was a miracle he didn't end up with his head over the sink. A quick nap couldn't hurt.

He was out by the time Sam came to say goodbye.

* * *

Dean woke to a hand stroking his hair. He relaxed easily into the fingers, melting with every pass. One second he was floating in easy peace, the next he was leaning over the side of the bed, heaving up everything in his stomach.

"I'm guessing that's a 'no' on the soup."

Dean couldn't care less who or where that came from. His stomach hurt–he needed it to stop hurting! The hand was back, cradling his forehead, and another was on his back, soothing him through every hard heave.

"Shh, I know. It fucking sucks. Let it out. As much as it feels like shit now, at least it's coming out at all. I remember there was one night–well, I guess it was morning–where I was over the toilet for five hours. I timed it.

"Well," Dean heard, "Pepper timed it. She could sit in the next room with a stopwatch, but heaven forbid she actually help me. 'You got yourself into this mess; you can deal with the consequences,'" the voice poorly parodied the shrill sound of a woman. "I mean, she was right, but seriously. I felt like I was dying. She could've at least given me a glass of water!"

Dean's stomach finally settled, and, with the hands' help, he flopped back onto the bed. Exhausted, Dean cracked his eyes open to see Tony drawing the blankets up to his chest.

"Speaking of!" Tony continued, not bothering to pause. "Water!" He produced a glass from the bedside table and presented it to Dean. The thought of putting anything in his stomach was absolutely repulsive. Dean closed his eyes, pushed the glass away, and turned over, intent on never eating again.

At least, that's what he tried to do. In reality, he groaned and lifted his hand about an inch or two off the bed, before feeling his side burn and dropping his hand back down.

"Trust me. You want something in there if you start puking again," Tony pushed. "Dry heaving? Ten times worse!" He waited a moment more before accepting that Dean wasn't going to move, then set the glass back on the nightstand. "You're really not doing too great, huh? How many of those tablets did you take yesterday?"

"Three," the teen whispered.

"_Three?!_ I'm surprised you were awake for as long as you were!" Tony placed a hand on Dean's forehead and sighed when he felt the heat. "You're still burning up; your body knows it was too much." Tony started shifting to sit next to Dean, wanting to wrap an arm around his sick boy. "Seriously, Dean! That was so incredibly stupid! You could've–"

Sensing that the man was coming closer, Dean instinctively struggled to get away from his foster father as his eyes snapped open to better fend off the impending attack. There was a frenzy of blankets and pillows, and then he was falling. Heart seizing, Dean tried to grasp anything to stay upright, but moving his arm up caused a white-hot pain to shoot down his side. The agony only intensified as he felt himself hit the floor. Hard.

Fighting not to scream, the teen breathed deeply until the pain dissipated enough to sense his surroundings once more.

He'd fallen out of his own bed. _Nice one._

Waiting for his heart to calm down, Dean slowly pulled himself up. Cautiously, he peered over the side of the bed, hoping to gage the man's reaction and make a break for it, if necessary.

Tony was frozen. His arms were extended, as if to try and help Dean stay on the bed. The man's mouth was open in shock, his eyes wide, his breath ragged and hard as he stared at the young boy who, delusional with fever and coming down off a high, mustered up the strength to avoid his touch.

Tony took a big breath and held it for a moment, before letting it out and dropping his arms. "Can I help you back up?" he asked, innocently enough.

Dean shook his head frantically, hurrying to pull himself off the floor. Managing to get his chest on the bed, the teen was just able to swing his legs up, as well, before gritting his teeth and rolling over onto his back. It wasn't easy, and he was sweating by the time he was done, but he did it.

"Great job, Dean. I know that couldn't have been easy." Tony was standing now, holding the glass of water. "Can you sit up for me? You really do need to drink some water."

Not wanting to upset the man any further, Dean exerted the last of his energy pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. Tony attempted to prop a pillow behind his back for comfort but stopped when the boy flinched and narrowed, nervous eyes froze him in place. Instead, the man passed over the glass of water, making sure Dean had a good grip before he let go.

"How ya feelin', bud?"

Dean fought the urge to throw up again as he sipped the water. "Like sunshine and rainbows. How do ya think I'm doin'?" he spat at the engineer. "I just love puking my guts out, don't you?"

"Hey, now." Tony's eyebrows knit together. "I get that you're not feeling great, but you only got yourself to blame. Can it with the attitude, mister."

Dean rolled his eyes and set the glass on the table. No need for his bed to get wet when fists started flying.

"Attitude? Dude, when I give you attitude, you'll fuckin' know it. I ain't pussying around with you here. Just buzz off, okay? I don't need you to take care of me," Dean sighed and braced himself for the incoming blow, knowing that apologizing would have just made things worse, but that rejecting the man probably hadn't helped any, either.

The anticipated strike never came, so Dean chanced a confused glance at his foster father.

Tony didn't even look ruffled at Dean's comment; he just let out his own tired sigh. "Okay, I'll go. I'm gonna clean up the mess, then I'll leave you to sleep for a while." It was then Dean noticed that he hadn't been puking into a bucket earlier, but straight onto the hardwood floor–and Tony's shoes.

"I–I'm so sorry, sir! S–sorry about the mess! So sorry! I'll clean it up! I will, sir–I promise! You shouldn't have to clean up after me! It was my fault!" Dean was desperately trying to sit up further, intent on appeasing the man, cheeks burning red with embarrassment on a face gone white with terror.

Tony held up a hand, and the fear-filled ramblings cut off abruptly. The father instantly wished he had thought through that action more carefully. "Don't worry about it. You aren't getting out of bed until you get more rest. And you're acting like I've never cleaned up puke before, Dean. Trust me, there isn't a person in this house whose puke I haven't cleaned up," Tony concluded.

"That especially extends to myself," the man added as an afterthought. "Now, lay down, close your eyes, and go to sleep. When you're feeling better, we'll talk about what just happened."

Dean was struggling to keep his eyes open, so, eager to let them slide shut and sink into oblivion, he nodded and buried himself in his blankets, listening as Tony quietly cleaned up his sick.

But as much his body longed to slip into a peaceful slumber, his mind was reeling. _Why didn't Tony hurt him? Or at least threaten him with a beating tomorrow? Anything! This didn't make any sense!_ Coupled with the pain still emanating from his side, the mess in his head made it impossible to sleep.

"Tony?" he called out before the man left the room.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Did–did you end up taking the codeine?" Dean needed to know that Tony hadn't relapsed because of him. He couldn't ruin another family like that–not again.

Tony gave Dean a small smile. "No, I didn't. My sponsor held me back until Steve got home and took the bottle from me. I'm still sober and going strong, Dean."

The teen nodded in relief, comforted by the knowledge that his foster father was still sober, which relaxed him just enough to fall into a fitful sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

Steve was worried about Dean. Really worried. He hadn't known the brothers for more than three months, but he just knew that Dean and drugs didn't add up. The history professor's morning went by in a blur, and before he knew it, he was back home, climbing the stairs.

"Tones?" Expecting to see his husband sitting diligently by Dean's bedside, Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the sight of Tony leaning against the boys' bedroom door with his head hanging between his knees, the picture of defeat.

Hearing his husband's voice, Tony closed his eyes and tilted his head back until it hit the door–a thud that echoed with the man's despair. "He won't let me touch him, Steve. He–I–every time I try, he–"

Steve rushed over and embraced the distressed man.

"He fell off his bed because he was trying to get away from me! He–he called me 'sir,' and–Steve, he looked so scared! I must have scared him yesterday–I didn't mean to!" Tony wasn't crying, not yet, but it sounded like he wasn't far off.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's alright. We'll figure this out. How you reacted yesterday was justified, and if it scared him, then we just have to gain his trust back. It's as simple as that, Tony," Steve reassured his husband, somehow pulling him even closer.

Tony nodded and pushed Steve away from him gently, an urgency in his tone, now. "He–he might–say things that–well, frankly, Steve, it just confirmed what we knew about his past. Just–just be prepared. And make sure he drinks some water. I gave him a glass, but he didn't drink a lot."

"Will do," the soldier promised. "Come on, now, hun. Let's see how he's doing." Steve helped Tony stand and slowly cracked open the door. "Dean?" he called out, not receiving an answer.

Opening the door further, the men saw that Dean was fast asleep, sheets thrown away from him and hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

"Dean, honey?" Steve neared the bed and lightly shook the teen until he heard a small groan. "Dean, I need you to wake up for a little bit. You need to drink some water."

Dean opened his eyes slightly and frowned when he saw the men hovering above him.

"Can you sit up for me, darling?" Steve asked. The teen nodded and began the arduous process of pushing himself up, grimacing the entire time. Steve moved to prop him up, holding out a hand for the extra pillows. Tony passed them over with apprehension, remembering what happened when he tried to do the same, but the boy just closed his eyes and allowed the man to adjust his body.

Tony let the relief of Dean finally accepting help overshadow the slight jealousy he felt at his husband being able to get so close to the boy without inducing panic.

He soon discovered the reason for the change in behavior, though: Dean, too tired to fight, had instead checked out; he was utterly detached from his surroundings and unconcerned with anything being done to him–resigned, and accepting of whatever happened.

Tony's heart broke at the realization, and he was flooded with sorrow for his son and all he'd gone through in his short, horror-filled life.

"There we go." The blond passed the teen the mostly-full glass of water from the bedside table. "Now, you don't need to drink all of it, but drink as much as you can without feeling sick, okay?"

Dean nodded and reached for the glass, surprising even himself when he chugged the entire thing. As soon as the boy was finished, he collapsed back against the pillows, and Tony surged forward to catch the glass before it could fall to the floor.

"You still look pretty tired, bud. Why don't you try to sleep it off a bit longer, eh?" Tony chimed in softly. The teen nodded sluggishly and offered no protest when his foster father removed the pillows and eased him back down.

Seeing his son sink into the mattress once more, Steve took the opportunity to check on Dean's fever. "Tony, he's still warm."

The engineer nodded. "The drug must still be in his system. It should go down soon; I'd say within the next hour or two, at least."

"Mmkay," the blond mumbled in response, the answer not alleviating his worries in the slightest. "Tony, can you get my laptop from my office? I'm gonna do my lectures from here to keep an eye on him."

Thus, Steve set up at Dean's desk, at an angle to better keep the boy in his peripheral vision. Time passed steadily as he spoke to his students about the Great Depression, and one hour faded into the next as he continued on to World War II. It wasn't until he was part-way through the rise of concentration camps that he noticed Dean writhing in his sleep, letting out sounds of distress.

Abandoning his lecture, Steve raced over to his son, shaking the boy's shoulder in an attempt to wake him from his nightmare. "Shh, Dean. C'mon, love, wake up! Everything's okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you, I promise. You're safe, darling."

Dean awoke with frantic eyes and a lazy attack that Steve easily blocked. Once the man saw recognition enter the teen's eyes, he gave a small smile and tilted his head in silent question.

Dean's eyebrows pulled together, and he shook his head, breathing deeply. Steve held his arms out, offering comfort. The teen studied his foster father, no doubt attempting to calculate risk versus reward, then extended a hand in return.

Steve grinned and slowly enveloped the boy's hand with one of his own, stroking his much larger thumb over smaller knuckles, imbuing as much love as he was able into the simple gesture. Thanking God he had such a large wingspan, the man reached out and snagged the laptop he'd left on the desk.

Never letting go of his son's hand, Steve got comfortable on the edge of the bed and continued with his lecture, watching Dean drift into a much more peaceful sleep.

It wasn't until he closed the computer hours later that Steve realized the entire exchange had taken place without words–only trust. He thought his heart might burst with the love he felt for this extraordinary child.


	25. Chapter 25

As always, a huge thank you to my beta morrismsteph!

* * *

Steve stayed there, holding Dean's hand, until the rest of the kids came home from school. Sam poked his head through the bedroom door, giving Steve a look equal parts confusion and surprise when he saw the man sitting so close to his lax brother. Steve simply raised a finger to his lips, then gestured for the boy to come forward.

"Is he okay?" Sam whispered nervously.

"Yeah," Steve whispered back, "he's just really tired, so we're letting him sleep."

Sam examined his older brother, searching for any signs of distress.

There were none.

Instead of soothing the younger boy's concerns, this revelation sent a spike of fear through him as he observed how peaceful Dean looked, despite the touch of their foster father. _He must be _really _sick._ Reaching out, Sam touched the back of his hand to Dean's forehead; he recoiled instantly, and his face went blank with shock.

"He's boiling hot." Sam looked at Steve, then back at Dean, thinking a mile a minute. His brother needed help, and, as much as Sam trusted the well-meaning man, he knew Dean would want the soldier gone.

"You should go get some ice and some wet cloths, to cool him down! I'll sit with him until you get back, and then I can manage things from there." At the man's raised eyebrow, Sam upped his puppy dog eyes and infused his tone with earnestness. "I'm used to taking care of him, Steve. Really, I can handle this! I know what to do–you don't have to worry about us!"

Steve held up a hand and shushed his son's chaotic rambling. "Yeah, he is pretty warm. I'm not too happy about that, either, but it's nothing to worry about, Sam. I promise, the fever isn't high enough for him to be in trouble." Carefully, the man released Dean's hand and grasped the younger boy's shoulders.

"Tony and I have taken care of all the kids when they've been sick, not to mention all the times we've gotten sick ourselves. We know how to help. You can trust us, Sam. Dean is in good hands, so please just relax. Getting worked up isn't going to help anyone, including Dean."

The two were interrupted by a noise coming from the resting teen, whose breath was coming out in short pants as small whimpers escaped–the beginning of a nightmare. The older boy's body twitched in terror, and a low whine sounded.

_Monsters_, the onlookers concluded, and either one might've been correct, though they'd have been horrified to learn what the other was envisioning. Dean was opening and closing his hand, in search of the safety of Steve's warmth, and was becoming increasingly agitated as his grip remained painfully empty.

Squeezing Sam's shoulders in apology, the man let go and clasped the sick boy's hand with both of his own, reassuring the anxious teen of his presence. Dean sighed in his sleep, and he immediately eased back into an easy slumber as all tension drained from his body. Steve's hand, it seemed, was the anchor keeping Dean's subconscious tethered to reality when his nightmares threatened to overtaken him.

The professor gave a fond–though tired–smile at Dean's unknowing display of trust and took comfort in the knowledge that he could soothe his son's suffering in such a way.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at the scene and studied his unconscious brother with the man Dean–apparently–now trusted. Resigned, Sam steeled his resolve and asked, "What can I do to help?"

"Actually, it would be a huge help if you could get Tony for me. Then you can help Thor and Nat start dinner, okay?" Steve didn't want the boy sitting beside his sick brother with nothing better to do than worry, so giving him an idle task was in Sam's best interest. The boy nodded quickly before fleeing from the room.

Steve ran his hand over Dean's forehead and back through his sweaty hair, noting with relief how the boy didn't even flinch at the touch.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked as he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Steve shook his head. "Not good. He's still burning up. You said he should've cooled down by now?"

"Yeah. Even with three pills, the side effects couldn't last this long." It was Tony's turn to feel the heat radiating off the teen, and he grimaced at the sensation. "It's not an overdose, trust me. The only thing I can think of is if he somehow took more pills since he's been home."

"What? But we've been with him!" Steve protested.

"Not the whole time. He could've stashed a bottle somewhere and taken more when we left him alone," Tony grimly pointed out. "I don't want to believe it, either, Steve, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

The blond sighed, then squeezed Dean's hand. "Dean? Honey, can you wake up for me, please?"

The teen woke peacefully this time, moving his head slightly towards Steve, before slowly opening his eyes.

"Hey, there you are! Good morning, sleepyhead!" Steve couldn't help but grin at the innocent expression Dean made as he returned the words with a small smile.

"Dean? I need to know where the rest of the pills are," Tony interrupted, shooting Steve an apologetic look.

"What?" Dean mumbled in response, not yet fully awake.

"Dean, we know you took more pills. Please tell us where they are," Steve implored, still rubbing the boy's knuckles in his grasp.

"But...I didn't...I gave them all to you?" Dean's words were slurred, though from intoxication, fever, or drowsiness was unclear.

"Dean, tell us the truth." Steve's voice was firmer, less coddling. "We need to know. You're much too hot right now, and we need to know what you took and how many this time."

"But I didn't–"

"_Dean_." For once, Tony was completely serious. "You're not going to be in trouble, but please tell us the truth," he practically begged.

"I am!" Dean was the most aware he'd been since he first took those stupid codeine pills yesterday. He wasn't lying. _Why couldn't they see that?!_ "I didn't take anything else!"

"Then why are you still burning up?" Tony asked sarcastically, though a frown creased Steve's forehead.

Dean froze.

The wound on his side–he never disinfected it. _Shit_. He probably had an infection. _Of-fucking-course, _Dean cursed himself. _Why the hell did Dad train him if–_

"I don't know." It slipped out before he could stop himself.

"You don't know? I find that very hard to believe." Tony's hands gripped his hips as he prepared for one hell of a fight. He _would _get those drugs.

"I don't," Dean defended.

Steve's expression hardened as he seemed to reach a verdict. "Dean, I know when someone is lying to me." Captain Mode was beginning to engage, the man's voice and posture becoming more rigid. "Tell us the truth, or we will look for those pills ourselves."

He leaned forward slightly, and the simple action exuded pure authority. The soldier's commanding aura washed over Dean, and he flashed back to sweltering afternoons, his dad's gruff voice yelling for repetitions and his body shaking so badly he was on the brink of collapse.

Retreating from his memories, the teen came to the startling realization that, between his father and Steve, he knew which one he'd rather serve under–and it wasn't the one barking orders.

Dean was still processing the revelation when Steve continued, his voice whisper-quiet as he promised, "_Even if we have to tear this room apart_."

It took a moment for the words to sink in; the room was silent. Then the boy's face fell, and his breathing hitched. "You really don't trust me?"

Tony scoffed. "Not when it comes to drugs or alcohol."

"Alcohol? I haven't had a sip of alcohol since I came here! I would never bring booze into an alcoholic's house!" Dean was close to shouting. Though his eyes were still glassy with fever, he was now alert and pissed at the implication that he'd do something so stupid.

"Yet you had no problem with bringing in codeine!" Tony sassed the teen.

"**Tony.**" Steve had gone full Captain. "**Calm down. Now.**"

The Captain's order, while intended for Tony, affected the boy, as well. Through gritted teeth, Dean bit back, "I didn't bring them into the house! You asked for them at school, and I gave them to you."

"So why do you have a fever?" Steve asked calmly, focusing solely on his distraught son. Looking past the surface anger, the man had seen the unshed tears gathering in Dean's eyes ever since the couple's blatant mistrust was confirmed.

"I don't know."

Tony threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Dean, once again, I know when people are lying to me. And I know you're lying right now. _Why do you have a fever?_" Steve pressed.

"_I. Don't. Know._" Dean emphasized each word, glaring at the man, and yanked his hand back in betrayal.

Steve instantly missed the physical contact–the sharp sting of its loss made him yearn to regain the sense of intimacy.

He reached for his son's hand but jerked back when the boy retreated further. At the rejection, the pair's newly created bond–so fragile to begin with–crumbled apart, a separation Steve felt like an agonizing pain in his chest. Tony, watching intently from the side, rubbed small circles on his husband's back in support, knowing how hard Steve would take the setback.

He let his arm drop with a dejected sigh. "Okay. You don't want to tell us, that's fine. _However_, you _will not _be alone in this room until your fever drops."

"If you're telling the truth, your fever won't improve. If you're lying, we should see the fever lessen the longer you detox," Tony summarized curtly. His tone made it clear which of the two he thought more likely.

_Double shit. _How was he supposed to clean the wound now? He couldn't have them hovering at all times. Knowing them, he wouldn't even be able to shower without a chaperone.

The teen huffed and flopped backwards onto the mattress, stifling a whimper at the subsequent pain in his head and side.

"Okay, then. Steve, can you stay a few more hours? I'll bring up dinner when I take over." Tony stomped out of the room, barely restraining himself from slamming the door behind him.

Steve sighed. "Sorry about Tony. He only gets mad because he cares about you." Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed. "It's true! He's just never been very good at interacting with people. Machines? The best in the world. But emotions?"

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "When I told him 'I love you' for the first time, he said 'ditto' and bought me an island." The man knew he was rambling–a desperate attempt to reduce the overwhelming tension in the room–but he couldn't bear the broken look on his son's face.

Dean, for his part, was starting to fall asleep again. He knew he ought to be more worried about how much he was sleeping, because of his concussion, but at the moment, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

He let Steve's words pass over him and closed his eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

This chapter was a BEAST to edit and morrismsteph is a goddess!

ALSO she is a WONDERFUL human being and found the original fic I read years ago that inspired this fic!

/works/1053519/chapters/2108859

Check it out! Things are a little different since I literally read it years ago, but I need to give credit for the entire universe my characters are playing in!

* * *

"We come bearing soup and steak!" Tony announced as he opened the door. "One guess as to whose dinner is whose."

The engineer walked into the room carrying a TV tray of food, Sam behind him with two glasses of water.

"Thanks, guys!" Steve beamed at his youngest as he took one of the glasses from him. "You're just in time. Dean just woke up!"

Dean grunted in agreement, though he made no move to accept the food.

"Dean, come on. You need to eat." Tony nudged the lump of a boy with the corner of the tray in jest, chuckling at the tongue said lump presented him with.

"I helped make your soup, Dean! I told Thor that we had to make you tomato rice, because that's what you always make me when I'm sick! And you said it's what mom used to make when you were sick, too, so it _has_ to make you feel better!" Sam's voice was hushed, yet excited, which managed to pull a smile from the grumpy teen.

"Thanks, Sam." Dean finally began struggling to push himself further up the bed, then leaned back against the headboard. "Pass it here."

Sam's face lit up as he reached for the bowl on Tony's tray, almost knocking it over in his haste.

"Sam, can you stay with Dean for a minute, please? I need to talk to Tony really quick." Steve ruffled the boy's hair as he stood up from his chair.

"But Steve–!" Tony tried to interject.

Steve pushed his husband towards the door, cutting him off. "Come on, genius. Out we go." Looking over his shoulder, he called back, "Keep a good eye on him, Sam! We don't want him getting any sicker."

"Steve, what the hell?! I thought we weren't leaving him alone!" Tony whispered when the door was closed behind them.

"He's not gonna do drugs with Sam there. And he's eating, which means he can't distract Sam long enough to get out his stash...If he even has one," Steve whispered back.

"If he even–?"

"I did the math, Tony. Even if he did take more pills after he got home, the fever should've gone down at least a little by now," Steve explained.

Tony was silent for a second, doing his own math. "You're right. Something's off," he conceded.

"But what? Is he actually sick, and this is just horrible timing?" Steve suggested.

"There are no other symptoms," Tony quickly replied, racking his brain for other reasons the boy could be feverish. "Could be a minor allergic reaction to the codeine, but I've never seen that before, so I'd need to do some research."

"You do that. I can sit with him some more. Now that we've basically ruled out drugs, I'll be looking for further symptoms and not just side effects." Steve gestured for the man to go back downstairs to his lab, grabbing the remaining plate off the tray still in Tony's arms before re-entering the boys' bedroom.

"Thanks for the soup, Sam! It was delicious!" the soldier heard as he crossed the threshold. "Can you bring the bowl downstairs for me? I'm afraid I'm still on bed rest, according to Captain Muscles over there."

Dean handed the empty bowl back to his brother, who was looking rather pale.

"Go on," Dean urged the boy. "Maybe you can ask Clint to play one of his Xbox games with you."

Steve watched as Sam shuffled out of the room, the boy looking back at his brother once more before closing the door on his way out.

"Is he okay?" Steve asked as he resumed his position beside Dean's bed.

"Yeah, just worried about me failing school now that I've officially missed a whole day of classes. _Perfect attendance record_–_gone!_" Dean dramatically imitated his brother, making Steve chuckle.

"He does love school, huh?" the man said, tucking into his dinner with gusto.

"He never cared much for any one school–we moved around too much for that. But learning and knowledge–now those he's obsessed with." Dean leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Always made a fuss about getting our transcripts before leaving someplace. That boy is gonna end up somewhere, just you wait." Dean's voice was dripping with pride. Steve could clearly see the love and adoration he held for his little brother.

"You look after him really well, Dean. You should be proud of that."

Dean opened his eyes then, meeting Steve's with his own. Even after the panic attack and the sex talk, it was the most vulnerable Steve had ever seen the boy. The look of pure amazement and disbelief on Dean's face just then was one Steve would never forget.

"It's true," the man continued. "Do you know what his therapist said before the two of you came to us?" Dean shook his head slowly. "They said apart from some abandonment issues from your father leaving, he's a well-adjusted ten-year-old boy. Which is incredible, considering everything he's been through, and it's all because of you, Dean."

The teen took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes together tightly.

"You protected him. Not just from your abusers, but from the dangerous environment you grew up in. You shielded him from the horrors of the world, the despicable things that people are capable of. Mr. Wilson told us about how you told Sam your foster parents were vampires, and how _that_ was the reason you had to leave, instead of telling him how they hurt you." Steve reached for Dean's hand as he spoke, expecting the flinch he received in response, but was happily surprised when the teen quickly recovered, his eyes flying open as he grabbed the soldier's hand before it was out of reach. Steve beamed at the action, though a worried frown briefly shadowed his face at the heat still coming off the boy.

"It's because you've looked out for him that that he has a chance to be a kid and to have a successful future."

Dean shook his head then, furiously at first, before wincing and slowing to a stop. Clenching his eyes shut again, the teen forced out, "No, that's all Sam. Yeah, he can get in a real bitchy mood once in a while, but he's basically sunshine on wheels. And his brain? That's what's gonna make him successful. As long as he keeps reading his nerd books, that kid will be whatever he wants."

Knowing when to pick his battles, Steve sighed. "I wish you could see what we do. From where I stand, I couldn't ask for a better version of you."

At that, the boy simply slumped back down into his covers, choosing, it seemed, to ignore the man and his words. Steve studied his son a moment longer, then continued to eat his steak in silence as the teen once again drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Keep a good eye on him, Sam! We don't want him getting any sicker," Steve called over his shoulder as he pushed Tony out of the bedroom.

Sam nodded to the closed door, then looked to his brother, who was dutifully eating his soup.

"This is really good, Sammy! Might even be better than mine!" Dean winked.

"Dean, you look _really_ sick," Sam bluntly noted. Dean paused, then continued eating as if nothing had happened.

"Well, I am sick. But don't worry, little brother. Between those two hovering Care Bears out there, I'll be fine," he placated, not even bothering to meet Sam's eye.

"Dean, your fever is_ really _high; I'm starting to worry. And you're sleeping so much! I've seen you awake for like _an hour_ _total_ in the past day!" Sam's panic was seeping through, his words becoming louder and more rushed.

"Shh, Sammy–it's okay!" Dean reached out for Sam's hand, gripping it as tightly as he dared. "You know how I get on painkillers. They knock me right out! Everything is completely fine! C'mon, you don't–you don't have to worry about me!"

"Painkillers?" Sam whispered.

"What?" Dean froze as he realized his mistake. The teen was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight; his head hurt, and his fever wasn't helping. In the confusion, he'd slipped up.

"You said painkillers. You were hunting again, weren't you?" Sam accused. "What was it this time? Ghost? Poltergeist?"

Dean sighed and went to run his hand over his face but stopped when his side wound twinged. Hissing in pain, the teen relented, "Fine, Sammy. You win. It was werewolves."

Sam looked to the door, aware that their foster parents were none the wiser, and whispered, "_Werewolves?_ Dean, I didn't even know they were real! Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Sam. One of 'em just threw me around a little. Nothing a needle and thread won't fix," the teen whispered back. Seeing the bedroom door open once more, Dean exclaimed loudly, "Thanks for the soup, Sam! It was delicious!"

Steve smiled as he re-entered the room.

"Can you bring the bowl downstairs for me? I'm afraid I'm still on bed rest, according to Captain Muscles over there," Dean said as he handed over the empty bowl, sending the boy a pointed look to remind him to keep quiet.

"Go on," Dean urged his brother. "Maybe you can ask Clint to play one of his Xbox games with you."

Sam edged towards the door, but glanced back in concern. Seeing Dean's stern gaze, he sighed and exited the room.

Sam knew something was wrong. Usually when Dean got hurt, he was a nightmare. He still joked around, of course, but he used the injury as an excuse to get Sam to do everything. Brushing off his injuries like this was troubling, to say the least.

The boy was lost in thought as he descended the stairs and returned the bowl to the kitchen, where he saw Thor and Clint washing the dishes.

"Why the elongated face, little one?" Thor asked when Sam approached the two.

Clint rolled his eyes. "It's 'why the _long_ face,' Thor," he corrected.

"Ah, my apologies," the man replied, winking at Sam behind Clint's back.

"Thor? Can I ask you something?" Sam inquired, wringing his hands.

"Of course, young scholar. How may I be of assistance?" Thor abandoned the sink and turned to completely face his youngest sibling.

"If–if you thought someone might be hurt, but they also might not be hurt, and they told you not to worry, what would you do?" the boy asked, unaware that both siblings knew exactly who he was talking about.

Thor frowned as he regarded the question. "If there is even a _chance_ that someone needs help, you have to tell someone, Samuel." The huge man knelt down and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, uncharacteristically somber. "Even if they say they are fine, there is no harm in getting someone with knowledge and experience to voice their opinion on the matter. When it comes to someone's health and safety, nothing is more important. Do you understand, young one?"

Sam studied the man intently, then dropped his head, lost in thought once more. "Yeah...I think so. But what if he's mad at me?" The boy looked younger than his ten years as he stared up at his oldest foster brother for guidance, big brown eyes completely trusting.

"It's a risk you are going to have to take. And with luck and patience, hopefully they will understand why you told someone," Thor answered. Clint was still fidgeting with a dish towel, rocking from side to side behind the two, awkwardly glancing about the kitchen.

"Okay. Thanks, Thor." Sam surged forward and gave Thor the biggest hug he could before running off.

"Look at you, being all responsible," Clint chimed in. "Obviously, he didn't see you on your twenty-first birthday, breaking beer mugs and shouting, 'Another!' until Papa had to carry you to bed," the twelve-year-old teased.

"Hush. I much look forward to the time when you are old enough to imbibe. Then, it shall be_ I_ that carries _your_ little frame to sleep off the liquor!" the man boomed with laughter, taking his place back in front of the sink. Thor laughed even harder when Clint stuck out his tongue, only to get splashed with dirty dishwater. Freaking out, the boy scrambled to rinsed his mouth with water straight from the tap, grumbling about his 'huge jerk of a thunder god brother' the entire time.

* * *

Just a note: I will be on vacation coming up, so I won't be posting for a couple weeks, but hopefully this EXTRA LONG chapter is enough to tide you over!


	27. Chapter 27

By the time Sam had told Tony about Dean taking the painkillers because of an injury, and Tony had run through the huge house to tell Steve, Dean was having a hard time staying conscious.

"Dean I need you to wake up for me darling." Steve was shaking the teen's shoulder, _hard_. All he got in response was a groan and a pinched face.

"Dean? Dean, sport, we really need you to wake up to make sure you're okay!" Tony was hovering above the teen, almost scared to touch the feverish boy.

"Dean wake up!" Steve shouted, beginning to panic.

"Steve," Tony's voice was shaking as he rested a hand on his husband's shoulder. "I think we need to take him to the hospital. Who knows what could've happened? All Sam said was that Dean got hurt and that's why he took the pills. He could be bleeding internally, or broken a bone or-"

"I know." Steve interrupted. "Call Dr. Cho and start the car." The burly man carefully picked the teen up from his bed and cradled him close to his chest.

Tony nodded and started dialling, racing to the garage to do as he was told.

"Where are you taking Dean?" Sam appeared seemingly out of nowhere as the two men made it to the landing of the stairs.

"Dean needs to see a doctor Sam, don't worry, he's gonna be just fine!" Steve reassured the boy as Tony finally got through to the hospital.

"Doctor?! What's wrong with him?" Sam demanded. "Is he really that hurt?"

"We don't know Sam. That's what we're going to find out." With an apologetic smile, Steve raced past the boy to follow Tony into the garage.

"I'm coming too!" Sam called out, running after them.

"Sam I think it would be better if you stayed here, we're not sure how long we're going to be." Tony was already behind the wheel of a 2018 Rolls-Royce, watching Steve climb in the backseat, still cradling the half-responsive boy.

"No!" The outburst got both of the adults to pause and look at the normally soft-spoken boy. "Dean is my brother and he's not going anywhere without me!"

The men looked at each other in the rearview mirror briefly.

"Climb in the passenger side," Tony responded. Sam raced around the car and as soon as the boy was buckled, away they went, breaking several traffic laws along the way.

* * *

The three waited for it seemed like hours while Dean was whisked away by scrubs-clad professionals. Tony's personal doctor met them at the doors and immediately took charge of the situation, commanding the men and boy to _'sit. I'll tell you when there's news.'_

Steve was the only one who actually sat in the offered chairs. Tony was pacing and talking to the kids that they had hastily left back home.

"We don't know anything yet Bruce, as soon as we do— no Clint, this isn't an excuse to get out of doing your homework, I know you have an English project due and— don't do that to yourself, Nat, I almost guarantee it wasn't you that caused it, the fever didn't start until the next day and— oh my god thank you Thor. You're being a huge help right now and your papa and I really appreciate it."

Sam, on the other hand, was curled up on Steve's lap, silent. The man had a strong arm curled around the boy and stroked his hair with the other, the pinnacle of calm amidst the storm of chaos around them.

"Steve?" Sam whispered with his face pressed to the man's chest. "Do you think Dean is gonna be mad at me?"

Steve could almost hear his heart breaking. "What? No! Of course not! Why would you think that?" Steve pulled away from Sam just far enough to see his face, to try and figure out what was going on in the young boy's mind.

"I told on him." Sam's head was hung low, his bangs hiding most of his features. Steve ran his hand over the boy's hair, pushing the strands out of the way.

"Sam, sweetheart, I promise you did the right thing! Who knows what could've happened if you didn't tell us!" There were tears starting to pool in the boy's eyes as Steve spoke.

"You love Dean." Steve continued, Sam nodded. "Sometimes when we love someone, it means that we have to do really hard things that they may not be happy about. And that's a good thing! For example, I'm going to tell you a secret." The man whispered. "When Tony asked me to marry him, I said no."

Sam audibly gasped. "What?"

Tony finally joined the two, alerted by the commotion.

"That's right." Steve reached for his husband's hand as he continued. "He asked me and I said no."

Tony _ah'd _in understanding. "Yup, straight up stopped me cold."

"I told him the only way I would marry him is if he got his addictions under control," Steve explained. "Don't get me wrong Sam, I was with him every step of the way, I never stopped supporting him, but I knew that marrying him at that point wouldn't have been the best decision for either of us. So instead, I made a really hard choice and it ended up with Tony sometimes really angry with me, but he's sober now."

"And I couldn't have done it without that decision." Tony chimed in. "Is this about you and Dean?"

Sam nodded. Tony ruffled Sam's hair and gave a small smile.

"Then yeah. This is exactly like when I asked Steve to marry me the first time."

"The first time?" The boy asked, confused.

The men chuckled. "Well, we did get married!" Tony flashed his wedding ring with pride. "I proposed again the day I got my one year chip with AA."

"Which, coincidently was a year and a day after his first proposal." Steve smiled lovingly at his husband while Tony in return took hold of one Steve's hands and kissed his knuckles softly.

Sam, somewhat more satisfied with the situation, rested his head once again on Steve's chest. He smiled when he felt the man return his arms to wrap around his son and start swaying slightly, comforting the boy.


	28. Chapter 28

"Tony," Steve whispered, getting his husband's attention. "He's asleep."

The two men were in the waiting room of the hospital still not having heard anything about the state of their son. Sam was now fast asleep on Steve's lap, cuddling into the huge man as he dreamt.

Tony brushed back the boy's bangs with light fingers. "He looks so much younger when he's asleep," he noted.

"Tony," Steve once again got the engineer's attention, but his voice was hard with emotion. "How did Dean get this bad? How did we not notice?"

Tony sighed and wrapped an arm around the love of his life before kissing the side of his head. "I don't know Steve. He–I guess we were just seeing what we wanted to see, he was on codeine," the man pointed out.

"Because he was in pain!" Steve's eyes were clouding with unshed tears. "He was in pain and we didn't even notice! Our baby was in pain, Tony!"

"Shh, I know, I know, Steve. But he didn't tell us! We couldn't see the injuries! There was no way for us to–"

"He should've told us, Tony! He hid from us instead of telling us he was in so much pain he used medical grade, addictive painkillers. And we–God Tony! We treated him like a criminal!" Steve was openly weeping, trying to keep from moving as to keep Sam from waking.

"It's my fault, Steve. When I picked him up at the school, I–I berated him the whole way home. Hell, I sounded like my dad." Tony slumped down in his chair, running his hands through his hair. "If I didn't have you and the kids I'd be halfway in a bottle of vodka right now, Steve."

Steve snapped his head towards his partner. "You're not going to right?"

"No. But I really fucking want to. I just–I had a thought before we found out he was hurt. That maybe–maybe he took the codeine because he knew we wanted to talk to him after school." The man admitted.

"What? Why would he–"

"There were a couple of guys that I met in rehab years ago. They were abused as children, and they said that when they knew they were gonna be beaten that night, they took drugs to lessen the pain." Tony looked Steve in the eye as he told him "I thought Dean took drugs because he thought we were going to beat him, Steve. I got angry–yes about him taking drugs, I hate that he did that, but I also got angry because I'm tired of him always thinking we're gonna hurt him! How many times can we say that we won't? How many ways can we show him we love him until he gets it?!" The man, frustrated, stood up and started pacing.

"Tony, sit down." Steve reached out a hand to the man but he was too wrapped up in his head to notice.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this Steve–I–"

"**Tony, sit down**." Steve used his 'Captain voice' to get his husband's attention, and, sure enough, the man plopped right back in his seat.

"Tony, what happens when you look at Dean?" Steve asked. Tony closed his eyes and took a big breath, calming himself.

"I–I'm amazed that he trusts us with everything he's been through. I'm angry at everyone who ever laid a hand on that perfect boy, and–and I'm filled with so much love for him that I–I don't know what I'm gonna do if something happens to him." The man replied, hanging his hand low.

"You love him. I do too. He's a wonderful boy and we just need to be patient. We would walk through fire for any one of our kids, and with Dean, it just means that the fire lasts a little longer," Steve comforted his husband.

Tony sighed and rested his head on the man's shoulder. "I know. We take it one day at a time, that's what we said the first day we got Thor, and we'll keep saying it until someone wins a Nobel prize or some shit."

"That's the plan." Steve agreed. Looking down at the tear-stained boy on his lap, the man tightened his arms and kissed the top of his head. "Tony, when I talked to Sam earlier he said that he 'was used to taking care of' Dean. What do you think that means?"

Tony blew air from his cheeks slowly, thinking. "Well, it could mean that Dean has a poor immune system, or that they have each other's back. But I think you know exactly what that means," the man sighed.

"That poor boy." the blond cuddled further into Sam. "If only we got him first–"

"Hey–" Tony interrupted, lifting his head to look his husband in the eye. "Dean is with us now and there's no point in thinking about the 'what ifs'. He–"

"Sam?" Steve interrupted, seeing Sam Wilson push through the hospital doors.

"Steve. Tony." The man greeted the two coldly.

* * *

"We didn't touch him!" Tony shouted.

"Then how did he get hurt?" Mr. Wilson shot back.

"We don't know! We brought him here as soon as we knew something was wrong!" Steve defended.

"And that only took how many days?" The social worker asked sarcastically.

The three men were in a hospital conference room after placing Sam in a quiet area to rest.

"Look, we didn't hurt Dean, Sam. We would never!" Steve tried to reason with his former squadron member.

"Stop lying to me, Steve! I saw the bruises! How could you?" Sam was angry, furious even. "I trusted you, Steve. Phil fucking trusted you! I told those boys that they would be safe because the two of you were good people! That they were _lucky_ we were able to get them in!"

Tears of anger started falling down the man's face. "_How could you__? _"

"We didn't fucking touch him!" Tony screamed.

Steve looked at the man that he once called his friend. "You really think I would do that?" He asked, heartbroken.

"I've been through this too many times with Dean. Every time I think I've found him a good place with parents that are gonna protect him instead of _use_ him, they prove me wrong." Sam's voice fell into a dangerous whisper, "So yeah Steve. When it comes to these kids, I definitely think you would."

The social worker made his way to the door.

"Hold on, we're not done here!" Tony shouted.

"Yes, we are. There's a police officer standing guard outside the door who won't let you leave until the investigation is completed. Once Sam wakes up we're going to get his statement, and we already sent two officers to get statements from your other children." Mr. Wilson turned to glare at the men.

"I don't care how rich you are Stark. No one hurts these kids and gets away with it. Not if I have something to say about it. If you're found guilty you _will_ lose your children. All of them. God knows what you've done to the others." With that, the man slammed the door behind him, leaving the couple in astonished silence.


	29. Chapter 29

"But why can't I see them?" Sam questioned. The boy had woken up between crisp, stiff sheets in an unfamiliar white room. A gentle-faced woman was sitting at his side who, though kind and altogether polite, had refused to let him leave or go see his foster parents.

"Don't you worry about them, dear. Everything's going to be fine," she responded, giving him a smile.

"What's going on with my brother? Is he okay?" Panicking now, Sam thought through every scenario that could be happening; most of them included Dean being critically hurt. "Please, I need to see Dean!"

"I'm sorry, Sam, but I don't have any information on him yet. As soon as I do, I'll let you know." The woman gave a sad smile as she tried to comfort the distraught boy.

"Tell me what's going on!" he demanded.

"Everything's going to be fine," the woman repeated.

"Stop saying that and _tell me the truth__! _" Sam was scared. Really scared. Something must have happened, and this woman wasn't telling him anything.

"You don't need to worry, Sam. Why don't you read a book while we wait?" she suggested.

Sam pulled the pillow over his head and groaned in frustration. _She didn't get it! _He just wanted Dean. He needed to know his brother was okay. He needed Steve and Tony to tell him Dean was okay, and to hold him if Dean wasn't. He needed his family.

* * *

"Lose the kids? Is he serious, Tony?" Steve gaped at the door Mr. Wilson had just slammed shut behind him.

"He said, 'if we're found guilty,' Steve. We didn't do anything, so they can't take anyone," Tony growled as he began pacing the length of the conference room.

"But what if they do? What if, despite us never touching a hair on his head, they decide that we hurt Dean?" The blond man collapsed in a chair, running his hands through his hair.

"They won't! I have the best lawyers in the world, Steve. They aren't touching our kids!" Tony pulled out his phone and started typing furiously.

"Tony," Steve whispered, "I can't lose them. We can't lose those kids." Tears gathered in his eyes. "They have complete jurisdiction over Sam and Dean! Even if they don't find us guilty, they're gonna take them away!"

Steve started crying in earnest now, doubling over in his chair. "I can't lose them, Tony! I can't!"

"Shh, baby, breathe." Tony abandoned his anger and rushed to kneel in front of his husband. "It's gonna be alright. We just have to make them see that we would never hurt a child. It's not going to be that bad! Sweetie, we have the best kids in the entire world. They'll tell the courts that we would never!" the engineer comforted the weeping man. "Everything's gonna turn out just fine."

Steve gasped suddenly in realization."Oh, God! Tony, we could lose Loki! They're not gonna give a severely traumatized child to suspected child abusers! We promised him a family!" Steve started sobbing even harder, too distressed to listen to his husband's words.

Tony surged forward and wrapped his arms around the love of his life, squeezing tightly and simply offering his silent support.

* * *

When two uniformed police officers appeared at the door of the Stark residence, the occupants were–understandably–worried. When those officers then insisted on having individual interviews, all hell broke loose.

Natasha and Clint both flat-out refused to leave the other alone with unknown adults. Thor also protested, explaining how Bruce had trouble speaking to authority figures and demanding that he be allowed to stay with him–to avoid 'a lot of unnecessary problems.'

The officers decided to do the interviews in groups of two.

"I feel incredibly safe with Steve and Tony," Natasha stated bluntly, poised gracefully, face blank.

"Our parents have never raised a hand to us!" Clint shouted in outrage.

"Dad keeps me calm; we talk about physics. Papa gives the best hugs," Bruce mumbled.

"The audacity you have shown, coming into our home and accusing our parents of such a grievous act!" Thor bellowed.

The officers didn't stay long.

"Natasha, what's going on?" Clint asked his sister, bright-eyed and scared. "It sounded like–"

"I know," she interrupted, not even wanting to hear the words out loud.

"It's not true," Bruce offered, voice strained. "It's not true. Dean went to the hospital because he had a fever, not because he was bleeding. Although, there are injuries that could cause a fever…" he trailed off.

"Sorry, Bruce, but that's not helping," Nat chided softly.

"What do you think happened to Dean to make them think Dad and Papa could hurt us?" wondered Clint. "Do you think Dean's okay?"

Thor placed a comforting hand on the boy's back. "Samuel confided in us that someone he knew was hurt. I knew it had to be Dean, but to what extent is our foster brother injured?"

"All I know is that it wasn't Dad or Papa," Nat growled through clenched teeth. After a moment, she hung her head and admitted, "It might've been me though. What if I bruised his ribs when I took him down the other day, and they think the injury is from them?" In an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability, the girl looked worried and ashamed at her possible guilt.

"Dad already assured you that his hospital stay has nothing to do with you, Natasha," Bruce commented. His reminder, based more in fact than in emotion, was actually the most reassuring thing he could've said.

"Whatever may be happening, I am confident that our parents will inform us when they feel we must know."

"Thor, the police asked me if Dad or Papa ever touched me inappropriately! I think we need to know!" Clint's voice was getting louder, the stress of the situation finally affecting the young boy, to which Thor gave a small smile.

"We know the truth, little brother. The rest will follow."

* * *

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Sam, please sit down."

"Let me out of here! I need to see my brother!"

"Please–"

"I want my parents!"

* * *

"I will fight for those kids, Steve. I swear to you: I will fight for them until my dying breath."


	30. Chapter 30

"I hate when they bring in child abuse cases. It's so sad."

"I know! It's even worse that they're denying it. Who doesn't know that their kid has a six-inch gash on their ribcage?"

"And a concussion!"

"And a concussion! No parent could miss that!"

Dean awoke to the sound of twittering voices, though the words were lost to the fog in his mind.

"Looks like someone is waking up! Well, hello there, Dean!" One of the voices now sounded overly cheerful. _Ugh._

After a brief struggle, the teen managed to open his eyes, only to immediately shut them again when he was assaulted by the bright overhead lights.

"It's alright, take your time," the other voice said.

Once again, Dean fought to open his eyes, squinting to try and see who was hovering above him.

_Ayyy._

Upon gaining the ability to see, Dean realized there were two young, female nurses at his bedside.

"Well, good morning, ladies," Dean managed before clearing his throat. "Please tell me I didn't miss the main event."

The nurses laughed, which wasn't a good sign if the teen wanted to get any action.

"Aren't you a little heartbreaker!" the first one chuckled. "How are you feeling?"

"I would feel a whole lot better if you helped me out, nurse," Dean gave his best suggestive eyebrow wiggle and received another laugh in return.

"Well, I don't know what you have in mind, but I may just be able to sneak you an extra jello cup for dinner tonight if you behave yourself." She gave him a playful yet stern glare as she continued to monitor the equipment surrounding the teen.

It was then that Dean realized he was in a hospital. He was kind of embarrassed that it took him so long, to be honest. _Dad would be so disappointed. _Attempting to make up for his subpar observational skills, Dean stopped and assessed the situation.

What was the last thing he remembered? Talking to Steve.

How did he get here? Probably Steve and Tony.

_Why_ was he here? Now that's the question he should be asking.

"Why am I in a hospital?"

The second nurse pulled her head up from a clipboard to answer him. "You don't remember? You were pretty badly hurt, sweetie."

Dean sneered at the nickname. "Don't call me sweetie unless you want me calling you honey tits."

The nurses both looked aghast before Honey Tits nodded.

"Where are my foster parents?" he demanded.

The other nurse, who he decided to call Bumpin' Booty, grabbed his hand suddenly and squeezed. "It's okay, they won't hurt you anymore. You're safe now."

"I'm–wait, what?" Dean fought to sit up amidst the blankets, wires, and tubes. "They didn't hurt me!"

"It's okay, hun, you don't have to defend them." Honey Tits smiled softly at him.

"Well, Honey Tits, I feel like I do because they didn't fucking hurt me!" Dean spat. Honey Tits tisked at his language.

"We'll go get your doctor." Bumpin' Booty guided the other nurse out the door, leaving Dean to an empty room.

_Okay, then._ _And I still don't know why I'm here. Moving on..._

His head still hurt, but not nearly as bad as before; maybe time and sleep helped?

His side wasn't on fire anymore; something to investigate.

Dean lifted his hospital gown and saw his side was now covered in gauze and professionally taped. He poked the dressing and hissed a little.

Definitely stitches; be careful with movements–do not tear.

IV line in his left hand; probably antibiotics and maybe painkillers. Could explain why his head didn't hurt as much. Definitely explains why his head is fuzzy.

His head needed to be clear if he was gonna get out of here. The teen reached to yank the line out of his arm, before feeling the sting of the stitches in his side. _Yeah, no. Not happening. _Painkillers were staying right where they were for the time being.

Alright, if he couldn't move, he could at least plan how he was going to leave. Looking around the room, Dean noticed just one clear entry and exit (the door, _duh_), multiple hiding points (attached bathroom, cupboard space, large equipment), and possible weapon options (tray of emergency medical supplies, maybe more in the cabinets lining the room).

Using this information, Dean started planning.

The teen was halfway through a brilliant escape, before he thought to ask the most obvious question: did he want to escape?

Steve and Tony were in here somewhere, waiting for him. The nurses said they thought he was abused, so what if the men were being detained? Leaving could make them look even more guilty!

His mind made up, the teen decided that, for once in his life, he was going to be a good patient and wait for the doctor. If he followed all the rules, they _had_ to listen to him when he told them for the first time ever, that _his foster parents were innocent_.


	31. Chapter 31

Dean didn't have to wait for long. A knock interrupted the teen's thoughts, and Mr. Wilson popped his head through the doorway, his tired smile masking an exhausted man. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey, Mr. Wilson. What are you doing here?"

"We've been here before, Dean." The man sighed before fully entering the room and taking a seat next to the teen's bed. "Why didn't you call me, Dean?" he implored, his eyes begging for an answer. "You know I would've been there in a flash! I've already got the police interviewing Sam and the rest of the kids to get their testimonies. All I need is some pictures of your injuries, and we have another court case."

Every time the two had been in this situation before, Dean nodded silently and watched Mr. Wilson rage and pace, all the while cursing those that dared to hurt a child. Now, though, the man simply slumped in his chair, crushed and close to tears. The teen stared in astonishment as one of Steve's old subordinates planned the prosecution of the country's beloved Captain Rogers–his own commanding officer, no less–and the man's genius, billionaire, (former) playboy, philanthropist husband, the famed Tony Stark.

Dean reared back as if struck, his face awash with horror. "What? _No!_ Steve and Tony didn't do anything! This isn't like the other times, I swear!" Dean denied adamantly. _He was supposed to believe me. He _has_ to!_

"Look at your arms, Dean!" the man raised his voice, gesturing to the clear handprint bruises visible on the teen.

"Those aren't from them! They've never hurt me!" Dean shouted. There was no way that he was going to let two of the only genuine people he'd ever met go to jail.

"You don't need to defend them." Mr. Wilson reached for the teen's hand, intent on giving him support, but the boy yanked his hand away.

"No! You don't get it! Steve and Tony didn't touch me! They're the best parents we've ever had and you're trying to take us away!" Dean was fighting tears now.

"It doesn't matter if they're better than the ones you've had, if they hurt you once, it's too many." The man tried to explain to the distraught child.

"But they didn't! Why aren't you listening to me!"

"Then tell me how you got hurt _this badly_ without the two of them knowing." Mr. Wilson cocked his head and waited for a reply.

Dean opened his mouth, and said nothing. He couldn't tell him what actually happened. Not without putting his life in danger.

"Got into a fight at school."

"Don't lie to me, kid. Don't you dare, not with what we've gone through."

Dean gaped at the man, then scoffed. "We?! What _we've_ gone through?! Last I checked you weren't the one taking all that _shit_ from people that _you_ swore would protect us!" The teen was shaking with anger.

"There is no _we_! If anything it's been Sam and I! But even then, he has no idea what _fucked up shit_ I've had to put up with to make sure he didn't go hungry! He has no idea how many times I've bitten my cheek bloody to keep from screaming because I didn't want to wake him up! What I've _done_ to keep that kid safe!" Dean paused, his chest heaving.

"So no. There is no _we_, Mr. Wilson. You don't get to insert yourself in my sob story. And you do _not _get to take us away from the only home that's actually felt like a home since the one our mother went up in flames in."

Mr. Wilson was quiet.

"You swear that Steve and Tony have never hurt you?" He asked, tentatively.

"On Sam's life." Dean's eyes bore into the man's, knowing that he understood the weight of his words.

"Alright." He nodded. "But I am going to need the truth about what happened because I know the fight at school story is BS."

Dean didn't respond.

"Dean?" Mr. Wilson prompted.

"Can I see Steve and Tony now?" The teen whispered, clearly dismissing the man that did so much for him, that _cared_ so much for him, but obviously didn't understand him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll just–uh–I'll just go and get them." The social worker stood up, turned back, as if to say more, but shook his head and exited the room.

It was once again Dean and his thoughts. The teen tried to calm himself, but his breathing was still hard and his hands clenched the thin bedsheet.

"Dean?!" The door was thrown open and there stood Steve, or, what he thought was Steve. The usually collected ex-military Captain was ruffled and frazzled, his hair sticking out every which way and his clothes frumpled and wrinkled. The most jarring difference was the man's face, it was obvious he had been crying, still was, in fact. His eyes were rimmed red and tear tracks ran down his cheeks.

"Oh, thank God, Dean! You're alright!" Steve rushed to the teen's side, forgoing the chair and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Oh, Dean, darling we were so scared!"

The man started smoothing down the boy's hair with one hand and placed a comforting hand on Dean's knee, squeezing occasionally.

Dean gave a small, but genuine smile. "Hi, Steve."

The man chuckled, a few more tears falling. "Hi, Dean."


	32. Chapter 32

"Steve, slow down! God dammit!" Tony could be heard from down the hall.

Steve chuckled. "When Mr. Wilson told us where to find you, I left him threatening to sue everyone and everything, including the manufacturers of the door they locked us behind," the man explained.

"Dean?" The teenager was left stunned at the sight of the engineer. The man was usually unkempt when he was down in the labs, but now he was wearing an Armani suit with the shirt untucked, the pants and jacket ruffled, and the tie askew. Not to mention Tony's hair–usually perfectly styled and coiffed–was much the same as Steve's–wild.

"My darling boy," Tony whispered. He raced across the room and enveloped the boy in as tight a hug as he dared. "We were so worried about you."

He pulled back just enough to look Dean in the eye. "Don't you ever do that again! You get hurt? You tell us. Doesn't matter how you got hurt; you will never get in trouble for needing medical assistance. Understood?"

Dean nodded slowly, then looked away from the man. "I thought you didn't want me anymore," he admitted.

"Didn't want you?" Steve squeezed his knee once more. "How could we not want you?"

The teen shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"Dean, I would like to apologize," Tony offered, which caused Dean's head to snap up suddenly in surprise.

"What?"

"I should not have reacted the way I did when I picked you up from school. If I made you feel like I didn't love and appreciate you in every way, then I was wrong."

Dean's jaw dropped. "But–but I took drugs! You had every right to yell at me!"

"We had a right to be upset, and to talk to you about it. If we found that you did it on purpose and just for fun, then we had a right to punish you, but you didn't take those pills for fun, did you?" Steve asked. "You took them because you were in pain."

Dean nodded.

"How did you get hurt, anyway?" Tony inquired.

"Fight at school," the teen responded immediately.

"No, you didn't. Remember, I know when someone is lying to me," Steve interjected. "The truth."

Dean's mind raced as he attempted to come up with a lie the genius and captain would accept, before he decided the truth was his best alibi.

"Werewolves," he declared, smiling cheekily.

"Werewolves? Dean, do you take anything seriously?!" Tony snapped.

"Tony," Steve warned.

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," the man apologized, then sighed deeply. "Fine. You obviously don't trust us enough to tell us. Is there any adult you would tell?"

* * *

"I already know what happened." Phil Coulson was seated in the plastic chair at the side of Dean's bed, posed perfectly in the picture of authority.

"What? You do?" Dean was taken aback. He hadn't even started speaking yet!

"You think I don't know when one of you leaves the city? I knew the second you were in the cab." Dean supposed this was Phil's way of explaining, though it revealed nothing.

"So you know–"

"About the werewolves, yes. And about the hunter you met; Rufus, I believe his name was. Although," the man paused, considering the teen, "I'm not sure about what was on the paper he gave you."

"Dude, that's creepy."

"That's me protecting those important to me."

"Fair enough. He gave me the number for an old friend," Dean answered, thinking was highly unlikely that the man wouldn't find out eventually.

"What's your friend's name?" the agent asked, unblinking.

"Bobby."

"Bobby Singer? In South Dakota?"

"How the hell–you know what? No. I'm just gonna stop being surprised." Dean shook his head, resigned to the fact that this man would know every one of his secrets, and, surprisingly, Dean was okay with that. "So, wait. If you know, what are you gonna tell Steve and Tony?"

"The truth. That you don't want me to tell them, and that they don't need to worry about you being hurt like this again," he replied coolly. "It'll drive Tony crazy, but they'll accept it."

"What are you gonna tell Mr. Wilson?"

"He was my protégé, Dean. I tell him to trust me, and he will." Mr. Coulson smirked; the look spoke of untold memories shared between the two colleagues.

"So everything is just…okay now?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Everything except the reason you needed Mr. Singer's number."

The teen paused, before admitting the truth. "I was trying to get information about our father. Sam misses him, and I was hoping Bobby knew where he was."

"_Sam_ misses him? Not yourself?" the man noticed.

"I do!" Dean protested. "But Sam is doing so well in school! He's being fed, and he's warm, and he's getting everything he needs, and–and–well if dad comes and gets us, there may be times when we have to go without again." Dean didn't know why he was confessing so much to this virtual stranger when he would normally never even admit such things to himself. But, for some reason, he trusted him.

_Never trust authority_, John's voice immediately echoed in the teen's head.

Shaking off the old command, Dean continued, "I would love to see my dad again, but Sam was doing so well that–well, I thought he could take his time coming back."

"Did you find out where he is?" Mr. Coulson inquired.

"No," the teen shook his head, his voice small. "Bobby said he hasn't heard anything about him in a while."

"Would you like me to try and see if I can find him?" the man offered. Dean's eyes lit up.

"You would do that?"

In response, the man pulled out his phone and typed for a second, before returning the object to his pocket.

"If there's any information available on your father, we'll know within a week."

Dean studied the man for a moment. "You're not actually CPS, are you?"

Mr. Coulson smirked again, shooting the boy a wink before exiting his chair and leaving the room.


	33. Chapter 33

"Okay, so the doctor says not to get the bandage wet for forty-eight hours, and to watch for signs of loss of consciousness." Steve read from a print out Bumpin' Booty gave him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Dean answered, climbing into the standard wheelchair for discharge from the hospital. His response alarmed the parents.

"Dean? How many times have you been injured?" Steve asked.

"Really? You want to know how many times a victim of child abuse has been injured, Steve?" Dean responded, deadpan. The man blushed in return.

"Dean!"

The three turned, startled, towards the door, where Sam could be heard screaming and running down the hall. The boy was flushed, panting as he slid into the doorway of the room.

"Dad! Papa!" the boy leapt into the arms of the closest man, who happened to be Tony. The men looked at Sam, then turned to each other with wide eyes and beaming smiles. Tony hugged the boy tightly, cherishing the moment for all it was worth.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, his head buried the man's neck.

"If you'd open your eyes you'd see him," Dean grumbled.

"Dean!" Sam pushed Tony away, confusing the man as to why he no longer held his son, and attacked his brother with a rib-crushing hug.

Steve moved quickly to brace the wheelchair to avoid being run over by the enthusiastic brothers.

"Jeez, Sammy, calm down would ya! I'm fine!" Dean assured the boy, but was hugging him back just as hard.

"I was so scared! No one would tell me anything and they wouldn't let me leave the room and–"

"Shh, Sammy, it's alright! Everything is okay now!" The teen interrupted. "We're going home and everything is going to be just as it was."

"You're better now, right?" the boy sniffled.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm peachy! Now come on, let go. Having my little brother hangin' off me is not gonna help my chances with the ladies."

Tony scoffed. "Because we're passing a stripper bar on the way out of the hospital," he mumbled, earning an elbow in his ribs from his husband. "Ow! Well, it's true!"

"Hey, now that's a hospital," Dean laughed.

"Which reminds me," Steve glanced at Sam quickly before continuing. "We still need to have that conversation we were going to have before all this...happened."

The teen sighed and sarcastically replied, "Sir, yes, sir."

"Though maybe not tonight," Tony said, glancing at his watch. With all of the excitement of the evening, it was now nearing close to midnight. "Bed first. Talk in the morning."

"But I'm still going to school right?" Sam asked.

The adults laughed

"Yes, Sam, your precious attendance record is safe," Dean answered. "Can we go home now?"

"Of course." Steve started to push the wheelchair from the room, hopeful that they never had to return.

"Wait!" Sam shouted, startling the others. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant hanging from a string from his pocket.

"The amulet?" Dean asked, reaching to feel the empty space where the necklace once rested.

"I didn't want you to bleed on it, so I asked Papa to take it off before we got here." The younger boy blushed as he gave the pendant back to his brother.

Dean smiled up at the boy. "Always lookin' out for me Sammy."

"Speaking of looking out!" Sam straightened, all traces of embarrassment gone. "What's the damage?"

The teen rolled his eyes and wasted no time putting the amulet back in its rightful place around his neck. "Just a concussion and some stitches, Samantha. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The younger boy nodded matter-of-factly, ignoring his brother's teasing. "Not too bad. That means sleeping checks, though. No complaining when I wake you up! And you have to let me check your dressing!" He glared his brother down until he received an amused nod. "And no training for a couple of days–I mean it! Although," he faltered, "I guess that doesn't matter right now."

Reaching out from his chair, Dean playfully punched his little brother's arm. "Nope, I can lounge for weeks on end, and you can be my errand boy! You just know I'm gonna milk this one, Sammy."

The teen winked at the boy, satisfied with the eye roll and small smile he received in reply.

The two parents shared a knowing and heartfelt glance at the brothers' interaction, grinning at what was obviously an old routine. Their minds, however, were filled with concern and apprehension for the things they knew for certain and the things they could only assume.


	34. Chapter 34

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" Tony knocked loudly on the door to the boys' room. "Sam, you better come downstairs for breakfast if you want to make it to school on time!"

Sam threw the covers off and hurried about the room, gathering textbooks and socks along the way before throwing open the door to a startled Tony.

"Hi, dad!" he called out before racing to the stairs.

The man was stunned for a moment, just looking at the back of the boy's head in awe, before shaking his head and noticing the lump under the covers of Dean's bed. "Dean? You okay?"

The teen grumbled in response. Panicked, Tony ran to the boy, expecting to see his son laying in a puddle of blood.

Instead, he found a very sleepy teenage boy, who swatted off the man's attempts to throw his blanket off.

"Stop it, Tony, I'm fine." Dean swatted the man away. "You don't need to make such a big deal about this."

The man looked at him funny but breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, Steve wants to talk as soon as the kids leave. Thor offered to drive today, and Steve and I both took the day off to monitor you. Where would you like to talk, Dean?" Tony asked. "Here? Steve's office? While you're eating breakfast?"

Dean sighed loudly as he resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to be able to sleep in today and mumbled, "Breakfast."

"Okay, sounds good," the man replied. "You still have about twenty minutes before the kids leave, but you might want to get a move on. You don't want to tear any of your stitches."

Dean heard the door shut as Tony left and huffed in annoyance. Tony was right. He pushed himself up slowly, testing the wound, and found that it was like every other set of stitches he had: yeah, it hurt, but nothing to bitch about. By the time he had finished getting dressed and brushing his teeth, he heard the kids calling out farewells to him up the stairs.

Time to face the music.

Dean trudged down the stairs to be greeted by the sight of Steve and Tony waiting for him at the breakfast table.

"Dean! How are you feeling sweetheart?" Steve stood and embraced the teen, not deterred at all when Dean stiffened before melting into the hug.

"Good. No complaints," he replied, and then moved to sit at the space with the plate covered in waffles. Tony offered him syrup and he dug in, moaning at the taste of the first real food he'd eaten in almost two days.

"Really? No complaints?" Tony pushed. "Do I need to remind you of your injuries?"

"I'm fine, just let it go," Dean brushed off the man, continuing his breakfast.

The parents eyed each other quickly. "Dean," Steve began, "If you're in pain, you need to tell us."

"But I'm not! Not really!" The teen was becoming agitated at the insistence of the men.

"Not really? Well, I would hate to see what real pain looks like, if this is fake," Tony spat, crossing his arms.

"So I got slashed up! Do you see me reaching for more pain pills? I can take care of myself!"

"And we don't doubt that!" Tony interjected. "But is this how you want Sam to behave?"

Dean's fork froze half-way to his mouth.

"What? What do you mean?"

"The way you're just pushing your wellbeing aside. Sam sees that, Dean, and he looks up to you. If you go about not telling us when you're injured or in pain, he's not going to, either," Steve explained.

"Sam would tell me."

"Are you sure?" the blond asked, leaning further across the table. "He wants to be an awful lot like his big brother."

"No, Sam is a smart kid."

"Maybe too smart." Tony saw fear in Dean's eyes as the teen stared at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, slowly setting his fork down and giving the man his full attention.

"Sam told me he was used to taking care of you, Dean. Not only your fever but your injuries. How does he know how to treat injuries? I know the doctors don't think he knows about your abuse, but I think he knows something," Steve told his son softly.

Dean shook his head adamantly and resumed his breakfast. "No, he knows I get into a lot of fights. He's seen me scratched and bruised before."

"Does scratched and bruised cover head injuries and side gashes?" Tony sassed.

Dean simply stared at the man. "Yes."

"Alright, we're getting a little off topic," Steve held his hands up between the two, trying to keep the peace. "Dean, we have a list of things we want to talk to you about. Tony?"

"So, Dean. Do you want to go chronologically or in order of severity?" Tony asked, resting his head on his hands innocently. The question caused Dean to sputter, almost choking on his food.

"Tsk. Tony!" Steve reprimanded the man, rubbing the teen's back as he regained his breathing.

"I was being funny!" Tony defended. "It's the same order!" he continued, receiving a glare from both husband and son.

Dean finally swallowed his mouthful. "Well, I guess if I had to choose, let's go chronologically," he replied sarcastically.

"Okay, that would be you acting out," Steve helpfully supplied. "Although we found a solution for it, we do want to actually talk about it."

"Found a solution?" Dean questioned.

"You didn't realize? You stopped being a jerk when you and Steve started sparring," Tony reminded the teen.

"Really?" he asked, looking back at his behaviour over the past couple of months. "Huh. I guess you're right."

"Looks like you just needed to work off some steam," Steve smiled. "I was wondering if you think it's enough or too much. We could find you other activities to burn more energy, or we could scale back if you'd like. It's completely up to you."

Dean stuffed a piece of waffle in his mouth to avoid answering right away. The men waited patiently. "Um. I guess what we're doing is working? I–I'll let you know when it's not?" Dean answered hesitantly, judging the men's reaction to his thoughts.

Steve smiled a little brighter. "Sounds good. Just let me know!"

"Next! Bertha What's-her-name!" Tony interjected.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know it's Becky Walters. And what about her?"

"Less about her, and more about you. So," Tony leaned forward and straight-faced asked the teen: "Were you being safe?"

"Oh my god! Yes, Tony, we were being safe!" Dean blushed, hiding in his plate.

"Oh, now he gets shy! Never mind when he's asking specific details about our sex life and rimming–"

"Oh my god, Tony, stop!" Dean shouted. Both Tony and Steve were laughing at the embarrassed teen.

"But seriously, kid." Tony straightened up. "Have you been safe with every person you were ever with?"

"Are you asking me if I'm clean?"

"Answer the question, Dean."

The three were quiet as the adults waited for an answer.

"Every girl I was with, yes," Dean finally muttered.

"So there are boys you've been with where you haven't?" Steve asked softly.

"Men," the teen whispered.

The atmosphere of the room shifted.

Dean stared at the table while the men processed the information. Their hearts hurt for the boy in front of them, and rage boiled in their stomachs for the men who dared touch their son. Pushing everything aside, Steve continued the conversation.

"And were you ever tested after those times?"

Dean shook his head. "I refused. I'm not about to let another perv near me like that."

"Oh Dean, darling, they're doctors! They would never hurt you!" Steve tried to comfort the boy.

Dean hung his head and whispered, "Just like adults are never supposed to hurt you? How they're never supposed to wake you up in the middle of the night to 'play' with you when your little brother is sleeping three feet away?"

Once upon a time he would've said the words in anger, but he was tired. Tired of the world kicking him down and expecting him to get back up again.

"Yeah, no. I never got tested."

Both men were fighting back tears at what the teen revealed.

"How about we try again?" Tony suggested. "We could see Dr. Cho again, you liked her right?"

"No."

"Dean–"

"No. I'm not getting tested."

"It's for your health, Dean–"

"I don't care."

"Are there no adults you trust with that at all?" Steve inquired. "Doesn't have to be a doctor, do you trust one adult to never force you to do anything of the kind?"

Dean paused and thought for a moment. "Well, Mr. Wilson, but I'm not letting him near me right now," he admitted.

"Fair enough. Anyone else?" Steve pressed.

Dean thought hard, then looked up to his foster parents. "You two?" he whispered. It was the most vulnerable the couple had ever seen Dean.

"Do you trust us to stop anyone else who might want anything like that from you?" Steve continued, as if the confession hadn't filled him with so much love he thought his heart would explode.

The teen nodded.

"This really is important, Dean. Would you be willing to consider getting tested with us in the room with you? Keeping you safe?"

Dean looked to the men, taking his time as he thought out the proposition. "You wouldn't leave me alone for a second?"

"We wouldn't dream of it," Tony assured the boy.

The teen nodded slightly, then asked to change the subject.

"Okay, then. Next on the agenda: where did you get the codeine from?"

This question Dean was expecting, but that didn't make it any easier to answer. Staring at his hands, the teen remained silent. The room was quiet once more while the minutes slipped by.

Seeing that Dean had no intention of answering the question, Steve prompted the boy, "Dean?"

"You said you don't want me to lie to you. So I won't."

"Dean, please. We need an answer," Tony pushed.

The teen remained quiet.

"Dean, we promise you won't get in trouble for telling us," Steve urged.

Dean didn't so much as blink.

Frustrated, Tony threw his hands up. "I see no reason why you can't tell us, Dean!"

Again, he said nothing.

"Okay. Here's what I think." Tony folded his hands on top of the table in a mock business pose. "You're worried that if you tell us where you got the codeine, you'll lose access to your supplier."

"What?" Dean finally spoke.

"This isn't the first time you've gotten drugs from this source, is it?" Tony accused.

"**Tony!**" Steve's Captain voice made another appearance, silencing the room once more. "We are not accusing Dean of having a drug problem!"

"Hey, it's what I would've done at his age!"

"You were doing cocaine at his age," Steve shot back.

"Actually, I started cocaine at sixteen, Mr. Know-It-All! Fourteen was ecstasy!"

"That was not the point and you know it. Anyways," Steve directed the conversation back towards the teenager. "To ease our minds, Dean. Have you ever done recreational drugs?"

"I don't put that shit in my body," he grumbled.

Steve raised his arms to present his case to his husband.

"Well, then there's no reason for him not to tell us!" the man responded, agitated at the lack of progress they were making.

"Dean," Steve looked the boy straight in the eye. "Do you have a good reason for not telling us where you got the codeine?"

The boy nodded.

"Will you ever willingly do drugs that were not prescribed to you again?"

"No promises, but I'll do my best," Dean replied, which was not the answer his parents were looking for, but they knew it was the best they were going to get from the teen.

"I'm guessing we just have to accept that. In any case, if you used your allowance to buy it, just a reminder that that's not why we give you that money. Spend it responsively and all that jazz," Tony sighed as he ruffled a hand through his hair.

Shooting a nervous glance to Steve, Tony rested his elbows on the table and made sure he had Dean's full attention. "There is one more thing I want us to talk about, Dean. How much do you remember from when you were feverish?"

Dean blinked, surprised. "Um, I think everything? I mean, I wouldn't really know if I forgot something, but nothing is really too blurry–"

"How about when you fell off your bed?" Tony guided the boy.

"When I–yeah, I remember that. Why?" The teen was truly confused as to why they were talking about his lack of coordination. "I was feverish and the concussion didn't help, why–"

"It's not about that, it's–" Tony paused, the man of many words struggling to come up with the right ones.

"It's because of how you reacted to Tony that we wanted to talk to you," Steve interjected.

"You were terrified of me, Dean," the father choked out. "I need to know that–we need to know that you're not scared of us like that. We would never hurt you! We need you to–"

"Woah!" Dean held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not scared of you two! You are the only parents I've ever had where I'm legit not worried you're gonna hurt me." The teen leaned closer to the couple, stabbing his index finger into the table to emphasize his words.

"I was delirious, and you thought I did recreational drugs. Of course, I thought you would hurt me. It's what I've known not only for the past couple years, but my whole damn life! If I came home high, you can bet my dad would've beat my ass!" Dean slowly leaned back into his seat, dropping his gaze to his twiddling hands. "And–I–when I saw that I had...made a mess on the floor and your shoes, Tony, I–I know that I forgot where I was, and if that ever happened with my other foster fathers…" he trailed off. "That's why I didn't want you to touch me. That's why I fell off the bed to get away from you. I forgot where I was and didn't remember you at that moment. I promise.

"You two are the only ones who actually give a crap about me. About how I'm doing and how I'm feeling. And–I can't apologize enough for how much trouble I've been." The teen took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. "All the stress I've caused you with having to get me from school two days in a row, to me using those stupid pills and leaving you with that damn hospital bill. I'll do my best to pay you back, but I don't know if I ever can. I–I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Steve reached across the table to lightly grasp the boy's hand. "Don't you dare apologize for being hurt. Tony has more than enough money, and we wouldn't dream of asking you to pay any bill. The only thing we're upset about is the fact that you needed to go to the hospital in the first place!"

Tony nodded vigorously. "Do not be afraid to tell us when you're hurt, Dean. Self-medicating is dangerous and can cause even more problems, if it doesn't kill you straight out."

"We'll take you to a doctor any time you need us to, Dean," Steve promised. "We have money to spare, but we can't buy another one of you."

Dean looked at the men with wide, innocent, and unbelieving eyes and squeezed Steve's hand tightly, before shaking his head and clearing his throat. "Um, thanks. I–I'm still sorry," he said, somewhat awkwardly into his empty plate, taking his hand away from Steve.

"We know," Tony sighed. "Unless you have any business you would like to attend to, or any questions you would like answered, you should be returning to bed, young man," he instructed.

Dean shook his head and made to bring his empty plate to the sink, only to have Steve take it from his hands.

"I'll wash the dishes, Dean, don't worry about it. Oh! And before I forget, you have an appointment with Dr. Mills tomorrow night," Steve reminded the teen.

Tony helpfully called out, "Hopefully this one won't end up with you inside another girl!"

Steve threw a towel at his husband for the remark.

Tony glared at the man in feigned surprise and anger. "Ow?!"

_Great,_ Dean thought about having to sit through another almost painful therapy session. _More talking. _


	35. Chapter 35

Dean never did make it to that appointment.

* * *

Phil Coulson arrived at the house at six pm that night, telling Steve and Tony to get Sam and Dean and sit them down. He had news about their father.

"Your father was found last night. His body was positively identified this morning."

When his life was thrown so completely off balance, Dean expected the world to shift. To change in some way.

His dad was dead.

The sun was still shining, electricity still running, he could hear Clint's video game music from upstairs, and yet: his dad was dead.

Dean jumped when he felt something touch his arm.

Tony. He heard something about time, about extra therapy sessions, but everything was coming through a haze, distorted. It was hard to concentrate. He didn't want to concentrate.

God, why were they still talking? Dad is dead!

There was a crash.

Tony fell down.

No. That's not right.

Dean pushed him.

Tony had tried to touch him again and Dean pushed him off the couch, knocking over the lamp.

The room was silent.

Everyone was looking at him.

When did he stand up? He felt his chest heaving, hands curled into fists.

Sam.

Sam was trying to talk to him. God, Sam was crying. Sammy wasn't supposed to cry. That was his job, keep Sammy happy and keep Sammy safe.

Dean can't see Sam anymore, Steve's in the way, saying something. Talking to Sammy? No. Talking to Dean now. Through the haze he thinks he hears 'follow me' but he can't be sure. He can't leave, Sam is crying.

Blur.

Confusion.

Steve's punching bag in the garage.

Dean hits it. He hits it again. And again. And again. Fists are flying, technique out the window, he just wants to hit. He can't hit hard enough, the bag is too soft.

He thinks he's yelling. Metal banging. This is better. He has something in his hands. What is it? Doesn't matter. Just needs to keep hitting.

* * *

Steve watched as the boy destroyed the hood of one of Tony's cars with a crowbar from the toolbox. With every bang of metal on metal, the soldier flinched, somehow unprepared for the sound he knew was coming.

Dean had been hitting the punching bag beforehand with the force of a man possessed. Steve thought that might have been enough to tire him out but apparently not.

With every swing of the wrench came a yell. Not quite a scream, not quite a grunt. Just enough of both for Steve to know Dean was hurting. Badly.

Time passed and Dean kept banging. They would have to replace the hood of the car completely, maybe even replace the parts inside as the dents got deeper and deeper. Steve made sure to watch for any signs that the boy's stitches tore, but even if they did the man wasn't sure he had the heart to interrupt his mourning.

Finally, the boy started to slow down. Bangs coming further apart until the crowbar went flying across the garage, and where it came from, was Dean. Crouching in front of the car. Heaving. Crying. Screaming. Sobbing.

Knowing he might get attacked didn't stop Steve from slowly approaching the boy, his arms braced in front of him to defend.

As he reached Dean, Steve took a chance and placed a hand on the younger boys' shoulder. The man was surprised when Dean did nothing but collapse on the ground. He was still heaving, but the screaming stopped.

"Dean?"

Eyes focused on him.

"Dean, I can't imagine what you're going through right now. But I'd like to give you a hug. Is that alright?" The man hesitantly offered his support, not knowing what would happen next. Dean once again surprised Steve by nodding slightly, eyes falling shut. Steve wrapped his arms around his son and cradled him in his lap, holding him tightly and intent on never letting go.


	36. Chapter 36

In all the accounts of losing loved ones that Dean had heard, there was usually a moment, when, first thing in the morning, in the place between sleep and awake, the person left behind forgets. Forgets that their husband/parent/or child has died and they feel peace in that moment, where everything is as it should be.

Dean awoke the morning after in his bed, unaware of how he got there, but not caring enough to wonder. There was no moment of peace where he forgot his dad died, there was no reprieve for the emptiness that consumed him. Dean couldn't even say he was hurting, he was feeling something, but unable to identify what exactly it was.

"Dean? You awake?" Sam spoke from the other bed.

"Yeah, Sammy, what is it?" Dean mumbled into his pillow.

"Do you think Dad's in heaven?"

Well fuck. That was a wake-up call.

The teen shoved his head under his pillow. "Go ask Steve. I have a feeling he goes to church, the boy scout that he is."

"I don't want to ask Steve, I want to ask you." Sam stood up from his bed and poked his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Dean. You knew him best. Do you think Dad is in heaven or not?"

Dean sighed and brought his head up to glare at the boy. "No. I don't think heaven or hell exists, Sammy. Now let me go back to sleep."

"But vampires and werewolves are real! Wendigos and ghosts are too! Why don't you think heaven and hell are real?" Sam asked, confused at the older teen's logic.

"Go away, Sam."

"Answer the question, Dean!" Sam poked him once more.

"Because if heaven and hell are real that means God exists too, and I refuse to believe that there could be some almighty being who just watches as horrible, fucked up things happen to us every day and does nothing about it," the teen snapped. "Now go away."

Dean covered his head in the blankets, effectively shutting out his little brother. He stayed there until he heard the door open and close, signalling that the boy had left.

The teen was left alone with his thoughts, which started bad and only grew darker. He realized he didn't even know how his dad had died.

Was it a hunt gone wrong? Did he piss off the wrong human? Was is just a stupid accident?

If it was an accident Dean would be even more pissed. What cosmic reason was there to take away the only other parent the boys had left? If it was a hunt or a human, Dean had to get busy. His father had been in the revenge business for the entirety of Sam's life trying to track down the creature that killed their mom. Now it seemed, Dean may be taking up the mantle.

Bringing out his phone, Dean called the one person he knew would know every detail of his father's death.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Coulson."

"Dean. How may I help you?" Phil was cordial, like he always was, as if he hadn't witnessed Dean break down just last night after delivering the worst news of his life.

"How did my Dad die?"

A pause. "Are you sure you want to know Dean? You can never unhear it."

The teen took a bracing breath. "Yes. Just tell me."

"Werewolves just outside of Jersey City."

Silence.

Dean processed the information slowly, the blocks lining up one at a time until the entire picture emerged.

"The same ones–"

"The same ones you and Rufus killed. My men found his body stashed under the floorboards of the barn."

Dean disconnected the call. There was no revenge to be had, he already helped kill the sons of bitches! If he knew his father's body was twenty feet away he would've...he would've enjoyed it more. He would have revelled in watching the light leave their eyes as he smirked down on them, claiming their deaths were retribution for the life of his father.

But they were already dead.

Fuck it.

Dean grew up in the life. He knew how to mourn for a fellow hunter.


	37. Chapter 37

"Do you think it's a good idea to let Dean stew all day in his room?" Tony asked his husband as the two were preparing dinner.

"Trust me, Tony, sometimes you just need a day to let everything settle without the prying eyes of the world. I did the same thing when Bucky died," the soldier responded. "If he's still in there tomorrow we'll try getting him out of there."

"Well, it's time for dinner. Should we ask him to join us?" Tony suggested.

"Yeah, let's get Sam to ask. Sam! Can you come in here please?" Steve called out, knife still in hand from cutting vegetables.

"Yeah, Papa?" the head of the small boy poked through the door. His foster siblings had managed to distract Sam enough during the day to keep his mind from dwelling. As a result, the boy, although not happy by any means, wasn't as near an emotional mess as his brother.

"Go ask Dean if he wants to join us for dinner. If he says no that's fine, we'll bring him up a plate later," Steve said, giving Sam a small smile.

The men listened to the sounds of the boy running up the stairs to get his brother, only to be confused when he came running back down.

"Dean isn't there," Sam explained.

"Is he just in the washroom?" Tony asked, his heart started beating a little quicker.

Sam shook his head, "The door was open and the light was off."

Steve put down the knife and wiped his hands. "No one panic, he has to be somewhere in the house. Sam, go check the library, I'll get the kids to look in the bedrooms and pools. Tony, he might've gone back to the garage, you look there. I'll take the gym. Everyone meet back here once you've cleared your areas," the ex-Captain threw out the orders effortlessly. The search party began.

* * *

"Cheers Dad." Dean took a swig from the bottle, grimacing at the burn going down his throat.

The teen, although no stranger to alcohol at the occasional rager and secret swigs of his dad's flask, was already piss drunk. He had bribed a homeless man to buy him his father's signature whiskey of Jack Daniels before finding a hiding place and cracking the seal.

Dean frowned as he felt his phone buzz, fumbling for a moment as he retrieved it from his pocket.

**Sam:** Where are you?

Dean scoffed, and put down the phone to take another swig. The bottle was almost half empty now, the teen's stomach was starting to revolt.

His phone buzzed again.

**Sam: **Dean? Come on this isn't funny.

Wasn't meant to be funny. Sam would be fine in the cushy mansion with the protection wards and sigils. Dean would be back by morning and would no doubt get an earful from his brother then. Sam could wait.

Dean ignored the next few buzzes, only picking the phone back up when he received a call from Steve. Dean promptly hung up the phone. He read the messages he'd missed.

**Sam:** Dean please answer! We've looked all over the house!

**Steve:** Dean where are you?

**Tony: **Answer your phone.

**Tony: **There's a reason we gave it to you.

**Tony: **We're losing our minds over here Dean

**Steve: **Please Dean. We're getting really worried.

**Steve: **Please answer your phone darling, we need to know you're okay.

Dean sighed and drank more from the bottle, ignoring his growing nausea. They'd be fine. He needed a minute to himself without the ever-perfect family judging him.

The phone buzzed again. "God damn it!" Dean, frustrated now, was ready to throw his phone to get the incessant buzzing to stop, when he saw who it was.

**Clint:** Dean are you ever coming back?

This made the teen pause. Placing the bottle on the ground beside him he decided to finally answer one of his texts.

**Dean:** Course I am bud.

He hadn't even brought the bottle back to his lips when he received another text.

**Clint: **Do you promise?

Without thinking, Dean's thumbs were flying across his screen.

**Dean:** Promise. Would j lie to gig?

Drunk texting was never really his forte.

**Clint:** Are you okay?

**Clint:** Everyone's really worried.

**Clint:** Are you hurt? Is that why you can't type?

**Dean: **I'm fine Clint. Don't worry about me.

Thank god for autocorrect.

**Clint:** Call me please?

**Dean: …**

**Dean: **This isn't Clint now is it

**Call from Clint**

Resisting the urge to scream, Dean put his phone on silent and picked up the bottle once more. This was none of their business.

He really needed to puke now. Refusing to give in to the alcohol, the teen placed his head between his knees and kept breathing, keeping the nausea at bay.

"Whiskey, eh? I myself prefer a dark beer."

Dean jumped at the voice that suddenly appeared beside him. He attempted a fighting stance but only achieved clutching the ground to assuage the dizziness. Once the world righted itself, Dean saw who it was that found him.

"Thor?"

"Aye." The man was seated next to the teen, relaxed against the wall and studying the bottle Dean had left. "Did you drink all of this yourself?"

Dean nodded, then froze when he realized that motion made the nausea worse.

Thor sighed and sized up the teen. "You are not well. You feel the need to be sick?" the man asked.

Dean closed his eyes and hung his head in shame, refusing to answer the man.

"Alright young warrior, let us go inside the house and get you aid." Thor stood up fluidly and began emptying the rest of the alcohol on the grass where he once sat.

"Hey!" Dean shouted, running to stop the man, but was blocked with one huge, jacked arm wrapping itself around his waist.

"I believe you have had enough and do not need the rest of this poison," Thor spoke softly.

"The fuck do you know?" Dean spat. "You have no idea what I'm going through, just leave me alone!"

The man shook his head. "I cannot in good conscience leave you, Dean. I fear for what you would do in your intoxicated state and wish for you not to be harmed. Please, let us return you home to our parents and–"

"_Our parents? _" Dean shouted, pushing himself away from his foster brother. "_We_ don't share parents! You have your Dad and I have mine!" The teen stopped. "I _had_ mine," he corrected himself.

Thor took a small step toward the inebriated teen. "I have heard that you lost your father. That is a burden that I wish on no one, Dean and I am truly sorry for your loss, but we need to get you inside. It will soon be dark out and–"

"Stop it!" Dean shouted. "Leave me alone!"

The boy crouched down, sitting on his heels and covering his ears, wanting to shut out the world.

Thor was quiet for a moment.

"Sam thinks you left him."

Dean definitely heard that. His head shot up to look at the man. "He what? He knows I'm coming back, I always come back for him."

Thor picked up Dean's phone that was left on the grass and handed it to the teen.

**Missed call from Clint**

**Sam:** Dean I'm getting scared.

**Missed call from Sam**

**Clint: **Sorry Dean, Dad took my phone

**3 Missed calls from Tony**

**Clint:** I promise I won't tell them where you are if you tell me

**Missed call from Steve**

**Natasha:** Snap out of it

**Natasha: **Your little brothers are crying

**Natasha:** You know that is unacceptable

**5 Missed calls from Tony**

**Sam:** Are you going to leave just like Dad did?

**Sam**: Please don't leave me

**Thor:** Are you coming into the house or am I going to have to get you?

"You knew where I was?" Dean asked his eldest brother.

"Aye. I saw you sneak through the gate and I myself have hidden here a time or two," the man admitted. "The question is: why did you choose this place to hide?"

Truth be told, after Dean had gotten the alcohol, he returned to the house and sat himself behind the shed in the backyard. "I didn't want to be far from Sam," the teen confessed, "but I didn't want to bring alcohol into the house because of Tony. The last thing I want is for another foster parent to drink more because of me."

Thor nodded and took another step towards the boy. "Aye. This plan to partake by yourself in grief was not the brightest, but you made some very smart decisions in between." Finally close enough to hold the younger boy, Thor tried once more to get him inside. "Please, Dean. Let us get you to the house."

Dean shook his head once, wincing. "I smell like booze."

Thor chuckled. "All the more reason to get you inside and in a shower." The man helped stabilize the teen by gently grasping his shoulders.

"I don't want Tony to–"

"And that's very thoughtful, but Tony is much stronger than you give him credit for. He can smell alcohol without falling into his old ways," the man assured him. "Now come. I have water waiting for you in the kitchen."

Dean finally nodded and let his brother guide him towards the bright lights of the house.


	38. Chapter 38

Dean was fuzzy on the details of that night, but he remembered the next morning in excruciating detail.

The pounding in his head, the cold of the toilet bowl, Steve's strong body bracing him and encouraging him when everything hurt too much to move from the bathroom floor.

The shame and guilt he felt from doing what he did.

Steve and Tony were understanding enough, telling him that his hangover was his punishment and that poor decisions were made in the face of grief. But he did need to talk to Dr. Mills tomorrow. So...not the best outcome but definitely not the worst.

Sam took his disappearance slightly less well than his foster parents. After giving Dean the verbal beatdown of his life, Sam attempted to murder his brother by hugging him to death. There were worse ways to die, Dean conceited.

Surprisingly, the ones that took it the hardest were his foster siblings. Nat hadn't spoken a word to anyone. At all. It seems the stress of him being in the hospital and then disappearing had caused a relapse in her selective mutism. Yeah, Dean didn't feel guilty about that at all.

Clint had hugged Dean, said "thanks for coming back", and then refused to look at the teen. Dean would have to work to gain back the boy's trust.

Bruce was the easiest, simply staring at Dean for a moment, before nodding his head and continuing his breakfast. The hungover teen sighed in relief when he realized there was at least one person he didn't ruin his relationship with.

Thor–Dean was confused about Thor. The man kept giving him contemplating looks and small smiles that were nowhere near as bright as they usually were.

The winter break had officially started and the subdued siblings went on their separate ways, but, already done with the day, Dean went to bed. At noon.

"May I come in young warrior?" Thor knocked at his door.

Sighing, Dean sat up and waved the man in.

"How are you faring?" the blonde giant asked as he perched himself on the edge of the teen's bed.

"How do you think? My head hurts, my stomach hates me and I'm now enemy number one for two-thirds of the house. And, oh yeah, my dad's fucking dead," Dean replied bitterly.

"I cannot express enough sympathy towards your father's demise young warrior. To lose a parent is something no child should ever have to face and I fear I can do nothing to take away your pain. However, I can aid in the instance of our family. Emotions are running high in our siblings, and although the past few days have been difficult for you, they've been hard for the rest of us as well. Natasha and Clinton will in time regain themselves from their stress, you cannot blame yourself for the reactions of others, only for your own actions."

"You sound like a fucking book of Chinese proverbs," the teen smirked. "Why do you call me 'young warrior'?"

Thor shifted so he was more comfortable at the end of the boy's bed before responding, "You are a fighter, Dean. One beyond your years. I saw it the moment I met you, I saw the resilience in your eyes. You were scared of me, and yet you positioned yourself in front of your brother to protect him."

Dean blushed. "I wasn't scared of you," he denied.

Thor simply smiled softly. "Yes, you were. In any case, I call you young warrior to remind you of the resilience I saw that day and continue to see every day since. To tell you that you can continue to fight your way through every hardship shown to you because you, Dean Winchester, are a fighter, and should never stop fighting."

Dean was stunned. "Damn. You taking a speech writing course or something?"

The man chuckled. "No. I simply speak the truth." Thor sighed and looked at the teen. "You have yet to learn the story of your fellow siblings, yes?"

"I think you're asking if I know your guys' life stories, in which case sort of?" Dean replied. "Steve and Tony told us your quirks and I guessed from there."

Thor nodded. "I cannot speak to the lives of the others, but I wish to share my own experience with you if you will permit me."

Dean shrugged. "They also told me about your brother that's still in the hospital, but if there's more to tell I'm all ears."

"I will elaborate on our story then," the man gestured for Dean to get comfortable and the two stared at each other in awkward silence before Thor began.

"You know that my home was in Scandinavia, yes? Well, my father was a very wealthy and influential businessman. I lived like a prince in the lap of luxury, I had private tutors and the grandest parties. My father spoiled me and groomed me to be his heir." Thor's voice was harsh, contradicting his words. Dean thought of what it would be like to be raised in such a life, wanting for nothing and, with a shock, realized it wouldn't be so different from where he was now.

"My brother did not live such a life," the man continued. "My father despised him and, although he did not deny him any material possessions, he refused to show him affection."

Dean could hear the biting edge to the words and feared for the boy that he never met, yet already felt connected to.

"It wasn't until years later that I found out that Loki was not my fathers' child, but the result of an affair of my mother. To maintain public appearances my father claimed the child as his own but hated the reminder of my mother's unfaithfulness," Thor dropped his head and picked at Dean's comforter. "Our mother was killed by an enemy of my father when I was thirteen. No one took it well."

Dean felt compelled to comfort the blond but didn't know how, so he too looked at his hands and remembered losing his own mother years earlier.

"When I was but your age of fourteen, Loki was nine, my father drank too much one night. He–he started beating my brother. I tried to stop him but he was much stronger than I was and barricaded me in a closet." Thor was no longer sad, he was angry. His face was blank and his eyes hard as he revisited the memory. "I heard every cry, every scream that came from my brother. Every taunt and the sound of flesh meeting flesh that will forever haunt my dreams are seared in my memory. But the one sound that scared me the most was silence. Loki had stopped crying."

_No. _

Dean had to remind himself that Loki was fine and survived the encounter, but didn't make it any easier to think of what would happen if it was him and Sam in that situation instead of Thor and Loki. It could've happened easily enough, one too many drinks for dad and one too many sassy remarks from Sam and it would've been exactly the same.

"I eventually broke down the door and tackled my father. He hit his head on a table on the way down and stopped moving. I didn't care. He hurt my little brother and I had no sympathy for him. Loki was-he was hurt. Truthfully I already thought him dead, but I called for help immediately. The doctors told me that he suffered a punctured lung, several broken ribs, a brain hemorrhage and damage to his internal organs."

Thor paused, taking a shaky breath to calm himself. "Because of my family's wealth, we were able to save his life. Had we not had the money he wouldn't have had a chance. My father was not so lucky. The hit to his head caused him to go into a coma, one the doctors weren't sure he would recover from. Because of my mother's demise the year earlier, it was my choice on how to proceed with my father's medical care. I took him off life support and he died." There was no trace of remorse on the man, unwavering in the certainty he had done the right thing.

"Child services back home thought it a risk for me to stay in the country because of my role in my father's death and his friends and enemies alike would not take kindly to my actions. I was sent on a plane to America within the week. I made my way through three foster homes before living with Dad and Papa. It was them that noticed that I used violence to handle my problems because that's how I solved that one traumatic problem in the past. They gave me the help I needed to see that too." Thor smiled. Dean thought it was nice to see the man who had gone through everything that he had, still show happiness and know that this story had a good ending.

"Dad and Papa have been nothing but amazing since the minute I stepped into their house. Did they tell you I once put Dad in the hospital? We were fighting about my school work and I shoved him into a bookcase."

Dean's eyebrows shot up his forehead in disbelief.

"They still told me they loved me and I just needed to learn how to control my anger and my strength. I was only living here a month at that point. It was then that they told me that they were planning on reuniting Loki and I as soon as he was able, and since then they've flown me every year on Loki's birthday to visit him. Dad hired security and everything to protect me, just to make sure that he's never alone. Mr. Coulson assured me of Loki's safety year-round and I'm too scared to ask him how," the man jested.

"When is Loki coming over?" Dean whispered, not wanting to interrupt, but needing to know.

"After we got him to the hospital he received many surgeries and most of the damage was repaired, but he needed some organ transplants because of the damage. He's already had two transplants and is just waiting for one more to be available before being able to join us here. Hopefully, a kidney becomes available soon, I miss him terribly most days."

It seemed the man was done talking. "Thank you for telling me, Thor. But, why did you?" Dean asked, confused.

"It felt as if you were lost. Lonely in your pain, even. I wish for you to understand that you are not alone and that, although we may not know what it is you are specifically going through, we will support you through anything." Thor smiled, offering nothing but unending encouragement and loyalty.

Dean pushed down the feelings threatening their way up and nodded at the man. "Thanks," he replied awkwardly.

Thor recognized the teen's aversion to feelings and gracefully took his leave. "If you have need of me for any reason, you have my number to text me young warrior."

The man shut the door on his way out, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.


	39. Chapter 39

The sound of flesh hitting vinyl filled the gym with dull thuds along with that of heavy panting. Two days after his bender, Dean was tired of feeling the pitying and accusing looks of the house's residence. After breakfast that morning Dean fled to hide and hit.

"Woah! What do you think you're doing?" Tony rushed over to the sweaty teen and pulled his arm back from his punch.

"Working out. What do you think I'm doing?" Dean responded, shaking the man's touch off of him.

"You have stitches and a concussion! The only working out you will be doing is maybe lifting small dumbbells!"

Dean rolled his eyes at the man and turned back to the bag. "I'm fine Tony, I've survived worse."

Tony stepped in front of the bag, effectively blocking Dean's access. "I don't doubt that, but you are _done_ for the day. Got it?" The man gave him a look that only a father could, filled with warning and love.

The teen sighed and dramatically sat down on a bench, starting to remove the tape binding his hands.

"Besides," Tony continued, "I wanted to talk to you now that you're not hugging the porcelain god."

Dean's bitch face wasn't nearly as good as Sam's, but he gave it his best shot. "Ha fucking ha."

"Oh come on. I'm the best person to talk to about drowning their sorrows in hootch!" Tony took a seat beside the teen, laughing at the scathing look the boy gave him. "Truth be told I never thought you would be a weepy drunk, I would've had my money on giddy, it's always the least expected."

Dean rolled his eyes and made to leave the gym, ignoring the words of his foster father.

"Wait!" the man called out. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be joking about this."

Dean turned to acknowledge the apology. "It's okay, it was a stupid thing to do."

"That's right." Tony beckoned the teen forward until he was directly in front of the man. Reaching out and grasping Dean's hands, Tony looked the boy in the eye and continued without a trace of humour. "It was a very stupid thing to do. You start dealing with your problems this way and you're not going to know how to stop."

Dean hung his head, hiding his face from the man. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one who got hurt here. We have rules for a reason Dean, if you're going to take any drugs or alcohol you tell us first. That's what we told you that first night."

"And when I _did_ tell you I took the codeine you accused me of being a drug addict and put me on 24/7 watch!" the teen interrupted.

Tony paused. "Okay, yes. You're right we handled that poorly," the man conceded. "However, we promise to try to do better and the rule still stands. Drinking by yourself is dangerous, Dean. You could've gotten alcohol poisoning or passed out and choked on your own vomit. Not to mention you have a concussion, Dean! What if you passed out and didn't wake up?! These are not things I want you to worry about let alone go through!"

Tony was near pleading with the teen, not too proud to give his dignity for the sake of his son's safety. "Promise me, Dean. At least tell us if you're drinking or taking drugs again. _Please_."

Dean studied the man, taking in his earnest eyes and imploring posture. "I," He faltered. Could he really promise this?

"I promise to answer truthfully if you ask me," was the response he settled on, not too specific but enough that Tony would take the win.

Sighing, Tony nodded. "I guess that'll have to do for now. I just don't want you to make the same mistakes I did, Dean." A pause. "At the very least, you should learn from mine and make your own! Be original, for god's sake!" Standing up, the man made his way to the door and beckoned for the teen to join him. "Come on, I have a project for you."

* * *

"Seriously?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Of course _seriously_! You broke it, now you gotta fix it!"

"But your _Rolls Royce _!?"

Tony had brought Dean into the garage and told him that Dean was going to help him repair the car that the teen had savagely attacked that fateful night. Dean didn't know as his arms were swinging that the car he had chosen was worth almost half a million dollars.

"Tony I'm so sorry I didn't-"

"Don't you dare apologize for having emotions. Come on, I already ordered all the parts. It'll be fun!" Tony prompted him.

Dean shook his head frantically. "No, no, what if I screw something up? This baby deserves the best mechanic in the world not-"

"Hey! Who do you think I am?" the engineer raised his eyebrows playfully at the boy. "I _am_ the best mechanic in the world, I won't let you do anything irreversible and I doubt you'd even scratch the paint job on Betsy here. I saw how you looked at these cars your first day here, I know you love a good engine under the hood."

"But–"

"No buts. Because you're still injured we're not going to do any heavy lifting today, more inspecting and planning, but by the time the two of us are done, she's gonna look good as new! Better, even than new because we'll have one of a kind!"

As Tony busied himself with organizing his cluttered workbench, Dean took a moment to study the car. It was once gorgeous with a matte finish and a high-end tinted windshield. The luxury car now looked like it had gone a couple rounds with a sledgehammer. With the paint all but gone off of what remained of the dented and hole-ridden hood and the windshield covered in spider-like cracks, Dean cringed at the knowledge that it was him that bestow the damage on the beautiful machine.

"I really am sorry Tony," Dean whispered. For some reason, he really needed Tony to know this, not to try and avoid punishment or because it's what the man wanted to hear, but because the teen was really, properly sorry for his actions and how they affected his foster father.

"I know, Dean." Tony placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed once, conveying that the man wasn't just throwing the apology away, but acknowledging that it needed to be said and was received well.

Guilt mostly abated, Dean looked over what needed to be done to the car. Somewhere in between replace the hood and check the coils inside the engine, the full weight of what he was doing hit the teen. The grin started slowly and lit up the boy's face in no time.

He was working on a _Rolls fucking Royce_.


	40. Chapter 40

"What do you want for Christmas, Dean?" Dr. Mills (_"Call me Jody"_) asked at the beginning of their session that night.

Dean rolled his eyes. "What, are you Santa now?"

"Humour me," she shot back.

"Aren't you gonna ask me about why I didn't tell anyone I was hurt? Where I got the codeine from? How I'm doing after my dad died? Me drinking the other night? I know Steve and Tony tell you everything," the teen slumped in his chair, resigned to his fate of an uncomfortable hour listening to how '_it's okay to have feelings_'.

"Do you want to talk about any of that?" Jody asked.

"Fuck no," Dean spat.

"Then what do you want for Christmas?" She asked again.

"A million bucks."

"No, you don't."

This caught the teen off guard. "How the fuck do you know what I want or don't want? You a mind reader?"

"No," was the simple reply. "Money makes you uncomfortable, you wouldn't want any more than they already give you."

Dr. Mills' observation hit Dean hard. He knew that he had never even mentioned anything of the sort before.

"But back to my question. What do you want for Christmas?" she asked once more.

"Nothing. I don't want anything."

"You have to stop lying to me Dean," Jody tisked at the boy.

"For fucks sake! Why don't you tell _me_ what I want for Christmas! Since you already seem to know!" Dean huffed, standing up from his armchair and glanced around at the walls of the room in avoidance.

The woman studied him for a moment. "Alright. I'm gonna give it my best shot. Are you ready?"

Dean scoffed.

"You want Sam to have a good and normal Christmas. You want to give him a good gift and see the happiness in his eyes as he opens it. You want him to forget about the death of your father and have a happy memory."

The teen whipped his head towards the doctor. "What?"

She met his gaze easily. "I think I'm right in that this isn't the first Christmas by far that you've spent without your father, but it is the first one where you don't have to take care of Sam by yourself and have the means to give him everything you've ever wanted him to have."

Dean stared at her for a moment. "I think I'd rather talk about the other things," he muttered.

Nodding, Jody went along with it whether it was in sarcasm or not. "Alright, let's start with the hunt you went on. That was the werewolves in Jersey right?"

Shaking his head in disbelief Dean returned to his seat in front of the woman. _Fucking Phil._

* * *

_Oh my god. Christmas just threw up in our living room_, was the first thing Dean thought as he and Steve crossed the threshold of the Stark Mansion.

Boxes of decorations were strewn over every surface of the large gathering room with a giant evergreen pine tree now standing bare in the far corner.

"Dean!" a shout came from behind a mountain of boxes before a head of shaggy brown hair popped out. "Look at all these decorations!"

The teen had only ever seen Sam _this_ happy a handful of times and cherished the joy radiating from the boy.

"Yeah, looks like someone robbed the north pole in here," he teased his brother as he removed his outerwear.

"It's not just Christmas things!" Sam shouted again, only to be reminded by Steve to use his inside voice. "Sorry, but Dean, come here! Have you ever seen a menorah? It's so cool! Oh! And Thor just showed me his Yule Log!"

The boy dragged his brother through the sea of boxes as the teen looked at the conflicting holiday decorations in confusion.

"Had trouble picking a religion?" Dean called out to Steve, still in the entryway.

"Hardly," Tony's voice rang from the kitchen before appearing himself, joining the others in the living room. "We picked too many."

"Thor is pagan and celebrates the yule, Tony is a self-proclaimed 'futurist' and doesn't observe any religious holiday unless we create one specifically honouring him, and Bruce, Clint and Natasha are Catholic," Steve explained, making his way through the room. "I'm Protestant but it's close enough to Catholicism that I go to the kid's Christmas mass."

"So you all just...share?" Dean asked, still confused.

"Isn't it awesome?!" Sam's eyes were wide with excitement.

"Sharing is a relative term," Tony explained. "Christmas Eve we do all do our own things, then Christmas Day we spend as a family."

"That day is for presents!" Clint screamed from across the room. He and his siblings came in carrying even more boxes labelled "Holidays".

"Nay, young archer, although that is the day we exchange our gifts to each other, it is for celebrating the unity of family and strengthening the bonds that hold us together," Thor explained joyfully while Clint rolled his eyes, smiling.

"But mainly for presents," the twelve-year-old finished cheekily.

"If no one is Jewish, why the menorah?" Dean asked, eyeing the elaborately engraved item on the mantel.

"My father was Jewish," Tony responded offhandedly. "As much as I didn't care for him, it doesn't feel like the holidays without one."

"Did your family celebrate anything?" Bruce inquired, setting down his box and looking at the brothers.

The boys looked at each other.

"I mean," Sam looked at his shoes, hiding the blush creeping over his cheeks. "Dean always made sure I had at least one present, but-"

"Dad wasn't always around to pass on traditions," Dean delivered coldly.

Not missing a beat, Tony chimed in. "Then you'll have to make some new traditions!" the man flung his arms wide in a dramatic fashion to liven up the dreary turn the conversation turned. "Shop around! See what you like, do some research, invent a holiday!"

"Tony no one is making you your own holiday," Steve sighed theatrically, winking towards the kids.

"Sam?" Dean raised an eyebrow, asking silently what his little brother thought.

"I always wanted to go to a normal Christmas church service," the boy replied hesitantly, gaging the teen's reaction.

"Really? Okay then," Dean shrugged. "Any chance we could join the four of you?" he asked Steve.

"Of course. Are you Catholic or is there another service you want to make it to?" the man asked. Dean once again silently questioned Sam.

"Um, Catholic is fine," the boy responded quietly.

Steve smiled. "Alright then. If you change your mind just let us know. In the meantime, help us decorate this unnecessarily huge house!"


	41. Chapter 41

"Are you sure it's enough?" Dean asked sarcastically. Looking out at the decorated living room, the Stark family admired their work. There were tinsel and garland over every inch of the tree and wreaths and flowers hanging from the walls, and stockings hung below the glamorized menorah on the mantle of the fireplace where Thor's Yule Log rested, just waiting to be lit.

"Hey, just be happy Papa convinced Dad to wait until winter break to start decorating," Bruce warned the teen, smiling. "As much as Dad says he hates Christmas, it's his favourite time of the year."

"Dad would start decorating the day after Thanksgiving if Papa let him," Clint added.

"Probably something to do with never feeling a part of a family when he was our age and wanting to give us what he never had," Bruce speculated.

"This is awesome!" Sam blurted out, still in awe of everything festive.

Dean smirked at the joy of his brother. "Well, Tony definitely got that right," he whispered to Bruce.

"I don't think we could fit more festivity in this room if we tried!" Tony announced as he carried a tray of hot chocolate from the kitchen.

"Well, you'll certainly try next year." Steve mused, settling in one of the armchairs. "He wanted a giant stuffed reindeer in the entryway, I had to talk him down to the inflatable one in the yard." The man winked at the children with a smile.

"I still say it wouldn't have been 'obscene' or 'over the top'." the genius defended, handing out the drinks.

"It definitely would've been," Clint confirmed, only to be met with a look of fake betrayal from his father.

"Et tu, Clint?" the man clutched his chest dramatically.

"What?" the twelve-year-old stared at the man in confusion.

"Really? Caesar? No?" Tony searched his son's face for any sign of recollection, then slumped on top of Steve, draping himself across his husband's lap. "Sigh."

The family laughed, well used to the man's antics.

Steve began to explain the famous quote to the boy with interjections from the man on his lap when Dean felt his phone buzz. Pulling it out, he found a text from Natasha.

He raised an eyebrow at the girl sitting across from him before opening the message.

**Natasha:** I never apologized after attacking you a couple weeks ago.

**Natasha: **So I'm sorry.

Dean read the messages again, not sure he had read the words properly the first time, before sending a message of his own.

**Dean:** Don't worry about it

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he expected the conversation to be over, thus surprising him when his phone went off once more.

**Natasha:** You didn't accept the apology.

**Natasha:** Dr. Hill said to make sure you accept.

Dean scoffed in annoyance before replying once more.

**Dean: **Fine I accept your apology

**Natasha:** Doesn't feel like it.

The teen snapped his eyes up to the girl and held his hands up in a 'what do you want' gesture.

"What are you two doing?" Sam asked, breaking the silent conversation of the teens.

"Nothing," Dean quickly replied.

Natasha, however, handed her phone to Tony to read the conversation.

"Ah," the man reacted, holding the phone for Steve to read as well. "Nat is trying to get Dean to accept an apology."

"I did accept it!" Dean spurted defensively.

"I have to agree with Nat, doesn't look like you do," Tony commented, handing the girl back her phone.

"Well, it's not like she has anything to apologize for!" the teen slumped against the couch, crossing his arms.

Steve shifted Tony so the man was sitting properly in his lap before leaning towards the boy. "Why do you think that?"

"I've done way worse, so…" Dean trailed off.

"And?" Bruce pushed.

"I mean with all I've put you through, a few punches doesn't seem like anything, now does it." Chin resting on his chest, the teen avoided eye contact with the family that, until a moment ago, was having fun.

Reluctantly, Tony stood and found his own seat. "Okay. I think it's time for a family meeting. All in favour?"

Dean watched as six hands raised into the air, giving Sam a look of betrayal that was met with a shrug.

"Alright," Tony began. "First of all, Nat was right to apologize. She did something wrong and needed to own up to it. Second, I could be mistaken, but I hardly ever am, I think you feel the need to make some apologies of your own."

Dean sputtered, feeling bombarded. "What? I–"

"He's not saying you _need_ to apologize for anything, only that _you_ feel the need to." Steve clarified, sending his husband a slight glare.

"I–" Dean started. The others waited in silence. "I guess I do." he relented, hanging his head once more.

"I'm sorry I'm such trouble. I mean, Nat, you stopped talking again because of me!" he emphasized.

"You can't apologize for how people react, Dean, only for your own actions. What to try that again?" Steve interjected.

"Fine." The teen paused to think. "I'm sorry for being such a dick. And for worrying all of you when I was hurt. And for running off and getting drunk. It- it wasn't cool. I don't blame you all for hating me."

"Hating you?" Clint chimed in. "We don't hate you!"

"Why do you think that?" Tony asked the teen.

"Well, I mean, I would've. And– everyone was so–distant–after that." Dean waved a hand in the air, vaguely.

"We don't hate you, Dean!" Clint pressed. "I was scared you were gonna leave again! Please don't leave again!"

Dean furled his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm not going to, I promise. But–why–"

"Dean, darling," Steve interrupted. "Every person in this room has some form of abandonment issue. You leaving as you did might've triggered some people, but it had nothing to do with _you_."

Dean jumped as his phone buzzed again.

**Natasha: **Brought back memories of our birth parents

Natasha stared at him with steely resolve as he read the text.

"Well then, I'm sorry I triggered it," Dean stated slowly.

Steve smiled and reached a hand out to squeeze the teen's knee. "Thank you for all of your apologies. We forgive you."

Dean looked around the room at the faces of the makeshift family. Clint gave an uncharacteristically small smile, revealing how hard the boy actually took the disappearance, but was adamant that he forgave the older boy. Natasha nodded seriously, Thor was grinning ear to ear, Tony gave him a goofy thumbs-up, Bruce nodded with a small smile, and Sam was simply beaming at seeing his brother receive so much support.

Dean cleared his throat. "Okay, enough with the chick-flick moment."

Sam jumped at the chance to change the subject. "So what's going to happen on Christmas Eve anyway?" he asked. "I mean I know we're gonna go to church, but like, is there a schedule or anything?"

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. "Always have to know the plan, don't you?"

"It's better to be prepared!" the boy defended.

Steve chuckled before responding. "Mass is at five-thirty, so we should be ready to leave an hour before then. While we're gone, Thor and Tony are going to stay here and light the Yule Log, usually Tony prepares us some snacks for when we return and we all sit around the fire."

"What should we wear?" Sam asked inquisitively.

"A comfortable suit. Tony and I are going to take you to get one sometime this week," Steve answered.

Dean sat a little straighter. "No, it's okay, you don't have to."

"Hush," Tony held a hand up to stop the teen. "I'm rich AF, I _do not_ want to hear another word about us spending money on you," the man gave a glare to the teen, knowing exactly why the boy was uncomfortable with the plans.

"Do we _need _to get dressed up for this?" Dean muttered. "I mean it's not like god is gonna smite us if we show up in jeans."

Bruce smiled. "It's the thought that counts Dean."

Sighing, the teen accepted defeat and slumped back in his seat.

"Wait a minute," Sam muttered. "You said you were Christian, right Papa?"

"Yes, sweetheart, what about it?" Steve asked, smiling.

"Then how come you and Dad are married? Don't they hate gays?"

The question made the atmosphere in the room go tense. Steve gripped the armrests of the chair so tightly his knuckles were turning white before he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"I was Protestant long before I knew I liked men, and it was very hard for me to come to terms with my sexuality." The man began. "However, I believe that God doesn't make mistakes and that people do, so the fact that the church is against homosexuals doesn't mean that God is."

"Oh, so you just ignore that part?" the boy questioned, not understanding the nudge Dean gave him in warning.

Surprisingly, Steve chuckled. "It's a little more complicated than that Sam, but yeah. I just ignore that part."

"That's another reason I'm not religious," Tony muttered, earning himself a glare from his husband.

"We're not starting this again, Tony," Steve warned the man.

Holding his hands up in surrender, the genius agreed to let it go.

"Well, it's been a long day, why don't we order some pizza and watch a movie," Steve suggested, getting a resounding holler of agreement from Clint, followed by the laughter of the others.


	42. Chapter 42

After the pizza was eaten and the kids were all in bed, Tony sighed as he crawled into their bed beside his husband.

Steve put aside his book and held an arm out for the man to cuddle close to his side. "You alright, love bug?" he inquired, kissing the genius' head.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that," Tony mumbled into the other man's chest.

"The question still stands." Steve rubbed circles in his husband's back, waiting for him to respond.

"Check-in?" Tony's muffled voice asked.

"Check-in," Steve confirmed.

When the two men first got together, they already had a mountain of landmines to work through. Having more than a few fights and panic attacks, they came up with the check-in system, one where, at any time, they both had an honest discussion about whatever was on their minds at the moment. The two credit this as one of the sole reasons they've been able to overcome everything thrown at them and come out stronger on the other side.

"Come on darling, what's going on in that brilliant head of yours?" Steve prompted.

The engineer groaned and, pushing himself away from his husband, swung his legs off the bed and cradled his head in his hands. "Ugh. I just– I know we've had more important things to worry about, and everything's been all sorts of fucked up, and Phil specifically told us not to worry about it but-but Steve I can't stop obsessing over how Dean got that codeine."

The man threw his hands in the air and turned to look Steve in the eye. "He's fourteen, Steve! He should _not_ be able to get drugs that strong _that_ quickly! It doesn't matter how hurt he is, he shouldn't have had access to it! I got all my drugs because I was rich as fuck and paid everyone off, but Dean? Someone is dealing hard to kids, Steve!

"And we don't even know where or how he got hurt! I know he didn't trust us, but why did I disable the tracking on his phone?! Out of everyone, _he_ would be the one we would need to keep track of!"

"_Phil_ told us not to worry about it, Tony," Steve emphasized. "When have you not trusted when Phil says?"

"Since it's _my_ kid getting hard drugs without me knowing about it!" he shouted.

Silence filled the room. The two men stared intensely at each other, laboured breathing the only sound between the two.

"I get that you're upset, Tony," Steve started, keeping his voice deliberately low. "But please do not yell at me. And Dean is _our_ kid. Do _not_ forget that."

A few more moments of heavy silence.

"You're right, Steve," Tony deflated, slouching against the headboard. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Steve moved to cradle the smaller man, kissing his temple, he whispered "Thank you, hun. Can we try that again?"

Tony sighed and buried himself deeper into the arms of the blonde Adonis. "I do trust Phil, but when it comes to our kids I just-"

"You're protective," Steve finished.

"Like a momma bear in a jungle full of poachers."

The blonde sighed as he comforted his husband. "I may have a way to find out," he whispered.

"What?" Tony shot up and looked in confusion at the man. "How? If you're suggesting a 21 Jump Street situation I'm going to officially never speak to you again."

"No, not a 21 Jump Street situation, I promise," Steve chuckled. "But, that night? After we talked and I went to check on Dean I told you I found him sobbing."

"Yeah, it makes more sense now," Tony muttered. "Whether he was in pain or because of how I treated him, I–"

"Tony," the soldier interrupted. "I'm sorry but that's not the point. He was talking to someone on the phone. Before I came in, I mean."

"What? Who?"

"I don't know. His phone screen was still open but there wasn't a name attached to the number." Steve paused, then reached into the nightstand. "I also found this."

He pulled out a crumpled receipt and gave it to his husband, who began analyzing it immediately.

"There's a number on this," Tony pointed out. "Is this the number he was talking to?"

Steve nodded.

"And after talking to this number, you found Dean sobbing." The genius was putting together all of the pieces, forming a picture of the night in question. "Either this is his drug dealer or it's someone that could lead us to them."

Steve nodded once more.

Tony looked excitedly at the man, then faltered. "Why didn't you tell me this Steve?" He drew back from his husband, awaiting the answer.

The soldier ran a hand down his face and took a bracing breath. "I knew you would make a big deal about it. Tony– he's a good kid! I never thought even for a second that he could be addicted to drugs. Acting out: maybe, testing limits: of course, but I thought that telling you would cause you to–"

"Overreact?!"

"Yes, Tony. _Overreact_," Steve emphasized. "I'm sorry for hiding it from you. I am. However, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Can you imagine if you confronted Dean with this while he was holed up with those injuries? He would ever trust us again!"

Tony blinked, taken aback. Absorbing the information and setting aside his pride, the man had to agree with the conclusion. "Okay. Maybe you have a point. So why give it to me now?"

Steve shrugged. "I was never planning on hiding it forever and it's bothering you. It seems like a good time."

The two men looked at each other for a moment, Tony gaze scrutinizing and Steve's earnest.

"Let's call it," Tony broke the silence.

"Call it? Can't you like, analyze it or something? See who it belongs to?"

"Or we could just call it. It would be faster, easier, and not to mention more satisfying."

Steve scoffed. "Of course. Okay Mr. Instant-Gratification, dial away!"

The two men waited with bated breath while the phone rang on speaker, glancing between each other and the phone in anticipation.

"Hello?"

Steve and Tony both furled their eyebrows at the sound of a gruff, much older man.

"Yes, hello," Steve started.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?"

"Oh, um, our son had it and we were wondering who's number it was considering–"

"Balls!" The voice interrupted just before the line went dead.

Startled, the men watched the screen in confusion of the strange conversation.

"Steve," Tony spoke slowly. "Did you seriously just talk to a possible drug dealer like an apologetic boy scout?!"

"I've never talked to a possible drug dealer before!"


	43. Chapter 43

Christmas Eve came with the excited voices of Clint and Sam singing every Christmas song they knew, making Natasha and Dean share matching looks of wanting to smother their respective siblings.

Despite the annoying soundtrack, the general atmosphere of the household was one of joy; everyone was exchanging smiles as they made preparations and wrapped last-minute gifts.

As the brothers pulled on their new (expensive, holy fuck) suits, Sam prattled on about what the church service would be like.

"Do you think there's gonna be candles in the ceilings?"

"You've been watching way too much Harry Potter there, Hermionie," Dean laughed at his brother's antics.

"You never know!"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure the church isn't magic, Sam."

"Well… okay, maybe that's true. I'm just really excited!" the boy was practically bouncing as he checked his tie in the mirror. "We're going to church!"

"And? We're gonna be bored for an hour while some old guy tells us we're going to hell," Dean scoffed halfheartedly.

"That's not what church is, Dean!" Sam chided his brother.

"Oh yeah? How do you know? You've never been," the teen pointed out.

"Because that's not how God works!"

"Since when do you care about religion, Sammy?" Dean wondered. "What, are you gonna start praying every day?" he scoffed again, checking his own tie.

Sam went still. "I do."

Dean blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I do pray. Every day. I have for a long time." Sam answered, looking at his brother straight in the eye.

"Seriously? You believe in some mystical being in the sky that's supposed to be in charge of our entire lives?" Dean's voice rose without his permission, betrayed in the knowledge that there was something about his brother that he didn't know.

"Dean! We've seen things that most people couldn't even dream about!" Sam's voice matching the teen's, all thoughts of getting dressed gone.

"Exactly. With our own eyes. That's hard proof, okay?" Dean shouted back, then stepped closer to his little brother. "Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's– hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who else had faith like that: Mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me."

Sam paused, fight fleeting. "You never told me that."

"Well, what's to tell?" Dean spat. "She was wrong."

Pausing, Dean steeled himself.

"There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that ... that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. You got any?" he searched Sam's face, daring the boy to contradict him.

Sam stared at his brother, silent.

"Didn't think so." the teen turned away and started fixing his collar.

"Dean–"

"Don't, Sam. Just don't." Dean interrupted.

Sam stood silently a moment more. "So, why are you coming to church with us?" he asked quietly, ignoring the teen's warning.

"I'm not going for them or for some higher being, Sam. I'm going for you. Giving you a good fucking Christmas for once."

"Dean–"

"Why do you even believe in this stuff, huh? Just because it's not proven wrong?" Dean sneered.

The boy shrugged and looked down at his feet. "After you told me about the supernatural, I just– there's so much evil out in the world, Dean, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about how I could end up–"

"Hey," Dean's voice softened, his protective instincts kicking in. "Don't worry about that. I'm watchin' out for ya."

"Yeah, I know you are." Sam gave a small smile. "But you're just one person, Dean. And I need to think that there's somethin' else watchin' too, ya know? Some… higher power." the boy shrugged. "Some greater good."

Dean sighed and walked over to his brother, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Hey, I'm sorry I ruined the mood. Let's take a page out of Steve and Tony's book and just not care about what anyone else believes in, yeah?"

Sam nodded and pulled away, reaching for his suit jacket.

"Sam," Dean caught the boy's arms, keeping him from leaving the room. "You know I'll never let anything happen to you, yeah?"

"I know you do your best, Dean." Sam gave the teen a look that Dean couldn't quite decipher. "And I really appreciate it."

The teen watched as Sam pulled on the jacket and left the room.

Way to go, Dean, you ruined Christmas.

* * *

"Hey, everyone! How was mass?" Tony called out from in front of the fireplace as the troupe returned from the Christmas mass.

"Long," Dean replied, removing his coat.

Tony chuckled and held out a steaming mug towards the teen. "Yeah, I getcha. We made some hot chocolate for you guys."

The group ran over and devoured the drinks, moaning at the rich chocolatey taste. The air between the brothers was strained for the ride to the church, but as soon as Sam saw the lights gleaming off the building, his Christmas cheer returned full force and their fight was long forgotten.

"So, Thor, what's up with your Log thing?" Dean asked the man currently poking the fire.

Thor's face lit up in excitement at the question. "Traditionally we celebrate on the winter solstice, but as this country is so ingrained in its holidays, I've decided to move it to correspond accordingly. The burning of the fire represents the keeping of the light through the darkest of times, something that I believe we, in particular, should be accustomed with."

Thor tore his gaze away from Dean to look at the fire. "I should like to celebrate this next year with my brother. He tells me the hospital he stays in does not allow fire on the premises and has watched me light this fire on video every year we've been separated," the man finished.

Steve squeezed his eldest son's shoulder tightly. "Phil is doing everything in his power to get him here, Thor, you know that."

Thor just nodded in reply, still staring into the flames.

The family sat in silence as the sound of crackling wood filled the room. Looking around at the content, yet distant faces of his foster family, Dean knew that they too were thinking of celebrations gone by either with, or without their family, and realized that this was truly the first Christmas he and Sam had without their Dad.

Sam was gripping his mug tightly and staring into the fire, far from the happy boy from the hours earlier. Dean reached out and nudged the boy, offering a small smile, frowning when Sam did nothing but close his eyes and shake his head.

Sliding closer to his brother, Dean nudged the boy again, silently prompting him to talk.

Sam sighed heavily. "I always thought there was a chance Dad would show up, you know? Even if he left that morning for a hunt I thought 'maybe this year he'll come back in time'. Stupid, huh? Now- now there's no chance of him coming," he whispered.

"No. No that's not stupid at all, Sammy, I thought the same thing!" Dean whispered back. "Every year I thought 'this might be the year', but it never was."

The brothers continued to stare at the fire, Thor's words remaining at the forefront of their minds. "You know," Dean whispered to Sam again, "This tradition I like. Burning shit and calling it hope. I could get behind it."

Sam smiled and laughed quietly at the teen. "Of course you'd see the destruction in it."

"No chick flick moments, Sammy. Gotta be manly somehow."


	44. Chapter 44

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Dean chanted in his head as he turned up the volume on the new headphones he'd gotten for Christmas. Apparently, Dean was terrified of flying, not that he'd had the opportunity to find out sooner, but here they were, Sam, Steve, Tony and him on a plane.

"Dean, are you humming Metallica?" Sam asked him, pulling the music away from his brothers' ear.

"It calms me down," he bit back. The teen's body was tensed, everything from his head to his toes was clenched in fear.

Steve, who was seated on Dean's other side, placed a hand on the boy's knee. "Dean, darling, I know you're nervous, but you have to relax. Everything is fine, you're completely safe."

"Nothing but the best for Stark Enterprises!" Tony called out from the kitchenette.

Christmas had passed in a flurry of food and presents, more than Sam and Dean had ever seen in their lives. The cheerful atmosphere was a pleasant distraction for the boys, for the week after held the funeral of their father. Upon discussion with the brothers, Mr. Coulson, Tony, and Steve had decided to have the funeral in Kansas and lay him to rest next to the boy's mother.

Tony, of course, was unconcerned for things as silly as cost, so here they were, sitting in their own private plane on their way to say goodbye to their father for good. The rest of the Stark siblings had offered to come to support them, but Dean adamantly declined, stating that they wouldn't even know who they were mourning.

"Dude, you've gotta calm down," Sam's face was pressed in concern.

Steve squeezed the teen's hand and kneeled in front of him. "Breathe with me, Dean. In. Out. There we go, good job. Again. In. Out." The captain coached his son until the boy's breathing evened out once more, watching as the panic faded.

"How ya doin, bud?" Tony asked, handing Sam a mug of hot chocolate and holding another out to Dean.

"Better," he replied shortly.

Steve smiled and rubbed the teen's knee before returning to his seat. "You need another breathing session, just let me know, sweetheart."

"How are you fine with this?" Dean asked his brother, finally taking the offered mug from the engineer.

Sam shrugged and opening his book, replied: "It's just a plane, Dean, I don't know what you're so scared of."

The teen flopped his head against his seat and sighed.

"Why don't we talk for a bit, Dean? Get your mind off of it," Steve suggested.

Dean scoffed. "Talk? What, you want us to have a little gossip session?"

"Why don't you tell us who you think is going to be at the funeral?" Tony suggested. "Maybe some old friends or family?"

Sam looked up from his book then, surveying the other three, though remaining silent.

"No one," Dean answered bitterly. "Dad didn't have many friends and he wasn't too friendly to the ones that he did have. I'm guessing it's gonna be us and maybe some people that knew him from the marines or something."

"What about Pastor Jim?" Sam asked.

"He and dad fought about that thing in Missouri a couple years back, remember?" Dean shook his head. "They haven't spoken since."

"Well that's okay," Steve smiled. "At my mother's funeral it was just me, the priest and my best friend Bucky, and it was the best send off we could've given her."

"Papa?" Sam asked softly. "How old were you when you lost your mother?"

Steve took a bracing breath and squeezed Dean's knee once before answering. "I was eighteen. I laid her to rest beside my father who died before I was born."

"I was twenty one when I lost both of my parents in a car crash," Tony revealed when Sam turned his gaze to the man.

"So we're the youngest?" Dean asked.

"No, actually," Steve replied. "Bruce became orphaned at age five."

"How did you–" Sam paused, thinking a moment. "How did you stop thinking about it? How did you…stop being sad?"

Dean whipped around to face his little brother. "Hey, it's okay, Sammy, we'll get through it," he assured the boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Time is a wonderful healer, sweetheart." Steve gave a soft smile.

"I, for one, would not ask me how I got over my parents' death," Tony piped up. "Way too illegal and way too dangerous."

Dean dropped his head into Sam's hair to hide his smile. Sam wouldn't understand what Tony was referring to, so Dean knew the words were meant for him alone. Steve started to say something more before the seat belt light chimed on above them, alerting them to their decent in Kansas.

Gripping Steve's and Sam's hands, Dean held his breath and waited through the turbulence to (hopefully) land safely in the state he once called home.

* * *

The family of four were confused, as the directions Mr. Coulson gave them lead them directly into an open field with dozens of people milling about. Looking out the window of the car, Dean started to see some familiar faces and grew more and more confused.

"Dean! Look over there, it's Pastor Jim!" Sam pointed across the field. Low and behold, there the man stood, talking to another man clad in plaid.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean wondered as they climbed out of the car and made their way towards the crowd.

"Balls!" a gruff voice exclaimed, making Steve and Tony turn to each other with wide eyes as they remembered the phone call they've made the week prior.

"Uncle Bobby!" Sam shouted in excitement, running towards a bearded man in a worn baseball hat and a flannel shirt under an unzipped vest.

Uncle? The parents mouthed to each other in confusion and followed their youngest as the boy tackled the man in a hug. Dean, however, was less than enthused to see the man Sam called 'uncle', dragging his feet and looking at the ground as they approached the two.

"Hey Dean," Tony whispered. "Is there anything we need to know about everyone here right now?" There was an edge to his voice that Dean couldn't figure out.

Shaking his head, Dean denied the opportunity to tell the man how they all knew each other, instead, he went for a less dangerous, and possibly more relevant route. "They drink. A lot."

"Heya Sam. You get any taller and you're gonna give your old father a run for his money," Bobby stated, messing the young boys' hair.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked, voice low.

Seeing the teen, the smile on Bobby's face disappeared. "Dean."

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked again, impatient.

"Dean, what's the matter with you?" Sam demanded, confused as to why his brother was treating their favourite uncle as a pariah.

"I got a call saying your father's body was found. I'm here to pay my respects," Bobby answered, cautiously.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I don't think we've met yet," Steve interrupted, offering his hand to the man. "My name is Steve, and this is my husband Tony."

"Ah, yeah the rich foster dads," Bobby grunted, taking Steve's hand. "Bobby Singer."

"I wasn't aware that Sam and Dean had an uncle?" Tony studied the man while too, shaking his hand.

"He's not actually our uncle," Sam explained. "We stayed with him sometimes when our dad was working and stuff."

Tony, watching Dean's stiff posture and eyes still trained on the ground. He wasn't at ease just yet. "And who was it that called you about the funeral, Mr. Singer?"

"Same guy that called all of us, a Mr. Phil Coulson. He said the boys needed some support to put the old son of a bitch in the ground." Bobby replied, then, looking directly at Dean, continued. "We may not have gotten on with John all the time, but being here for the two of you is something everyone here can easily agree on."

Dean furled his eyebrows together in hesitation, staying silent.

"Can I talk to you for a minute Dean?" the man asked, cocking his head to the side in a gesture to leave the others. The teen looked at Steve and Tony, and after receiving a nod and small smiles, accepted the invitation.

"Look, boy," Bobby sighed once they were out of range. "I'm sorry for how I left things. It– aw hell I need some more Jack for this. The sentiment still stands, get out of the life and never look back, but I shouldn't have been so hard on ya."

Dean, for the first time, looked the man in the eye. "I've never heard you apologize before."

"Never had a reason to," Bobby shot back. "They still treating you right?" he pointed to Steve and Tony.

Dean nodded. "They– honestly they're the best people I've ever met."

"Good. You and your brother deserve nothing less," the man nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper before offering it to Dean. "Your dad's storage locker. I already went through and removed anything incriminating or dangerous so you can bring Sam and your foster dads to go through his stuff."

After taking the paper and reading the address, Dean looked up in confusion. "Storage locker?"

"Everything your dad owned is in there, you didn't think he just threw everything away did you?" Bobby asked, ruffling Dean's hair and walking away, towards a young blonde woman and her screaming two-year-old.

Dean watched the man leave, then inspected the address. Everything?


	45. Chapter 45

Mr. Coulson managed to arrange both a hunter's funeral and a civilian's funeral, with them burning the wrapped body of John Winchester on a pyre followed by burying the ashes in a box beside the body of Mary Winchester.

Sam leaned into the embrace offered by Tony, whereas Dean brushed off the hand Steve placed on his shoulder, constantly fighting back the tears threatening to spill. Many well-wishers stopped to convey their condolences to the Winchester boys, most wearing flannel or plaid and carrying a bottle of alcohol.

One in particular confused Steve and Tony by hugging them and whispering "Give him time, the boy's as emotionally constipated as my hamster," before letting go and calling out: "Go with your first choice, no fifteen year old wants a watch."

After another nerve-wracking flight home, the family once again stepped foot in their mansion, the feeling that everything had changed, while everything stayed the same, plagued Dean. Looking around at the walls he'd called home for the past five months, Dean wondered how he'd gotten here. How, in as little as two years, he'd gone from being a perfect little soldier to a punching bag to a normal teenager in a ridiculously huge house and concerned parental figures.

"It's been a long day for everybody, why don't we order some pizza and watch a movie?" Tony suggested when the rest of the Stark residents came to greet them upon their return.

Mr. Coulson managed to surprise the family by delivering the pizzas himself and asking to join them. When he asked Sam and Dean how the day went, Sam hid his face into Steve's shoulder and shrugged. Dean managed to look the man in the eye and thank him for all he did for their dad, arranging the proper funeral and gathering the man's acquaintances for the send-off.

The rare moment of gratitude was met with a smile and nod, along with a look of uncertainty upon the man's face as he studied the teen.

Forgetting the trials of the day, the family gathered to eat their late dinner and sit in silence as the movie commenced. Mr. Coulson was giving Dean glances occasionally, watching as the teen threw his crust to the box violently and braced his head on his hands and pulled on the strands of his hair before leaning back to continue to feign to watch the movie.

After observing Dean pull on his hair for the third time, the man nudged the teen's knee and gestured inconspicuously for the two to leave the room. He was met with a confused sneer and eye roll before Dean returned his gaze to the screen.

Not one to be ignored, Mr. Coulson once more nudged the boy and raised an eyebrow, silently asking if Dean really wanted to dare refuse him again. This time, the teen sighed and raised his arm in a 'lead the way' gesture.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Coulson asked once they'd left the room.

Dean, in response, scoffed and crossed his arms. "You mean other than the fact that I just came back from my father's funeral?"

"Yes. Other than that." The man's voice was even and steady, refusing to rise to the teen's bait.

"If you're hoping for a tender heart to heart moment you're gonna be seriously disappointed," Dean spat, moving to return to the rest of the family.

"Dean," Mr. Coulson's voice was low, but the prompt was enough for the boy to pause and turn towards the man. "I know something else is going on. Now tell me. What's wrong?"

Dean hesitated, then shook his head. "You can't fix this one, Mr. Coulson. Even with all of your connections and freaky knowledge of everything, you can't fix what I've fucked up."

"Are you sure?" The man smiled. "I am a man of many talents and I can't tell you if I can fix something if I don't know what happened to begin with."

"Trust me. This is on me and you can't bring someone back to life," the boy muttered.

"Bring someone back to life? Dean, is this about your dad?"

"Of course it is!" Dean snapped, finally looking directly at the man. "Do you think I'd actually be okay after watching my father's body be burned to ashes then buried beside the mother I barely remember?"

"I would never expect that, but I'm getting the sense that this is about more than that." Mr. Coulson was frustratingly calm in the face of the annoyed teenager. "I think you're blaming yourself for what happened."

"Well, yeah!" Dean shouted. "It's my fault! If I were a better hunter, dad would've brought me with him and he would've had back up! If I wasn't so useless he wouldn't have left for so long in the first place! He wouldn't have felt the need to get away from us all the time! He– It's all my fault!"

The teen was pacing, fighting tears and almost forgetting the man watching him fall apart.

"Dean," Mr. Coulson called out, interrupting the boy's spiralling. "Sit down."

"No, I–"

"Dean," the man pressed, pointing to an armchair. "Sit."

Hanging his head, the teen obeyed, falling back into the soft cushions and bracing himself for the lecture about just how useless he actually was. Mr. Coulson knelt in front of the teen and braced his hands on the armrest, effectively trapping Dean in the seat.

"Look at me," the man started, waiting until he was certain he held the teen's full attention. "Your father's death was not your fault."

Dean blinked in surprise.

"John Winchester knew what he was going into when he decided to join the hunting community and he was well aware of the risks he took. He was coming back from a hunt when he heard the possibility of a supernatural being in Jersey City. He was woefully unprepared and didn't tell anyone where he was going. You couldn't have helped him kill those werewolves, Dean. You were miles away and looking after Sam with no means of transportation." The man stopped when he saw Dean drop his gaze to his lap. Placing a finger under the teen's chin, Mr. Coulson lifted Dean's head until he was once more looking at the man.

"Your father didn't bring you on hunts because he knew it was too dangerous to bring a thirteen-year-old. It doesn't matter how skilled you are Dean, you should never have been put in that dangerous a situation and your dad was right to leave you behind."

Seeing tears beginning to well in the teen's eyes, Mr. Coulson moved his hands to rub Dean's shoulders. "Hey, hey. You, Dean Winchester, are the furthest thing from useless. You hear me?"

Dean shook his head frantically, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. "No, no I–"

"Am the furthest thing from useless," Mr. Coulson repeated.

A sob forced its way out of the teen, making the man pull Dean in for a tight hug, feeling the gasps and tears escaping the broken boy.

"You aren't going anywhere any time soon, Dean. Not if I have anything to do with it. I will make sure that you feel nothing less than who you are, and that is an incredible and wonderful teenager," Mr. Coulson whispered, only making Dean sob even harder against the embrace of the older man.

Looking over the teen's shoulder, Phil saw Steve leaning against the doorway, mouthing thank you to the man holding his son and letting him fall apart in his arms. With a stiff nod, Phil acknowledged the soldier and continued his soft reassurance to the teen, watching as Steve observed for a moment longer, then left, giving the two the privacy they needed.


	46. Chapter 46

"Great job, Dean!" Tony praised the teen as he watched Dean put the final touches on the Rolls Royce.

"Is that everything?" Dean asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Yup! All we have to do is turn the key and see what happens!" the engineer smiled proudly as he tossed the keys to the boy. "Give it a shot."

Climbing in the luxury car, Dean held his breath as he inserted the key and turned the engine. At the sound of the smooth purr, Dean's face broke out into a huge smile, laughing at the cheering Tony was making from behind the hood.

"That was awesome, Dean!" the man exclaimed as he joined Dean in the cab of the car. "You're great at this stuff, how did you learn all of this?"

"Um," the teen looked down to work at an oil stain in his jeans. "You remember our Uncle Bobby from the funeral? He owns an auto salvage yard and taught me how to fix up old cars and stuff."

Tony watched the teen submerged in memories for a moment. "He did a great job. Did he look after you and Sam a lot?" The man risked prying into the brother's past.

Dean shrugged. "A couple times a year. The last time I was there, he taught me how to throw a baseball," the teen revealed, giving a small smile.

"It sounds like you were really close," the man observed. "What happened?"

Dean turned his head away from Tony, looking out the window as he took a deep breath. "Nothing."

"You don't have to tell me, but I don't think that's the truth, bud," the man pushed.

"Look, it's just–" the teen looked back down at his hands. "I called him a while ago and he basically cut all ties with us."

"Did he give a reason?"

"He– he told me to 'play the little rich kid game'. To forget about him and move on," Dean spat, eyebrows furled in frustration.

Shifting to put an arm around the front seat, Tony faced his son completely. "It sounds like he still cares about you. Wants the best for you. Don't you think?"

The man was met with a small shrug.

"Okay, enough of the sappy." Tony clapped his hands, startling the teen. "Let's close the lid and look at this thing of beauty!"

Exiting the car, the two did as Tony suggested and admired the handiwork that was the fixed half a million-dollar car. Dean held the keys out to Tony only to blink in surprise when the man said: "Keep it."

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"You're turning fifteen in a week, you can start learning how to drive soon. Happy Birthday, kid." Tony smiled, wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders.

"What? Tony– I can't–"

"You don't want this one? You can pick any car you want. Take a look around the garage, hell take a look around the internet, tell me which car and I'll buy it for you," the man interrupted, reminding Dean that his foster dad wasn't just wealthy, but fucking rich.

"So Dean, which is it gonna be?"

The teen smiled softly before reaching into his jeans and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "I know just the one."

* * *

Steve coughed as he inhaled the dust that was kicked into the air upon lifting the door of the storage unit. If Bobby hadn't said he'd went through everything already, Dean would've assumed the place hadn't been stepped in for years.

"Uncle Bobby said this was everything dad had?" Sam asked for the eighth time.

"Yup," Dean responded, for the eighth time. Looking into the dark room, Dean couldn't recognize any of the dark shapes. Suddenly, the lights came flooding on, and Tony yelped in victory near the power panel. Immediately, Dean's eyes wandered over to what they were there to get.

The Impala.

The car was as gorgeous as ever with its slick black paint reflecting the overhead lights.

Tony whistled in appreciation. "Now that's a car."

Dean slowly walked towards the car he called home for almost ten years, taking in every detail. Everything was as he remembered, every imperfection ladened with memories. Running his fingers over the hood, something caught his attention on the dash of the car.

The teen opened the driver's side door and sat in the cab, reaching for the envelope sitting above the steering wheel.

Dean

Surprised to see the note addressed to him, he pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

She's yours kid

Your dad would be proud of you.

Keep watching out for Sam.

Uncle Bobby

Dean saw something hit the paper, and realized it was a tear. Putting down the paper and wiping his face, he looked up and saw Steve and Tony staring at him, silently asking if he was alright. Nodding to reassure them, Dean replaced the note in the envelope and ran his hands over the steering wheel.

His.

Popping open the glove compartment, he was met with the notable absence of fake IDs and the hand pistol, but the cassettes were exactly where dad left them.

"Great taste in music," Tony commented, sitting in the passenger seat beside the teen.

"Yeah, dad loved the classics," Dean mused, running his fingers along the spine of the tapes.

"Dean! Look at this!" Sam called out, breaking the teen from his pensiveness.

"What is it, Sammy?" He called back, getting out of the car to join his little brother.

"Look at all the stuff dad kept!" Sam exclaimed, head deep in a box. "Look! My cement handprints from kindergarten!"

"What?" Dean asked, confused. Why the hell would dad keep that?

"Why does he have a gun in here?" Steve asked, eyes wide and holding the weapon at arm's length. The brothers looked at each other in confusion. How did Bobby miss that?

"That's mine!" Dean exclaimed when he got a good look at the object, rushing over and taking the gun from Steve.

"Excuse me?!" the husbands asked in shock.

"I made this sawed-off shotgun in third grade!" He explained, then realized what he's just admitted to. "I mean, um–" the teen floundered to come up with an excuse as to why a kid would be making a gun.

Tony lifted his hand, interrupting the panicking boy. "I think it's time to tell you something."

"We know what you're father's job was," Steve revealed.

"What?!" the brothers' mouths dropped open.

"Mr. Coulson told us before you came," Tony explained.

"But how could he?" Dean asked. "He knows how dangerous it is for you to know!"

"No gang can touch us, Dean," Tony shushed the teen.

"What?" Sam and Dean shared a look, knowing that something was off.

"Do you really think some biker gang can come near Tony Stark and his family?" The engineer scoffed. "They'd be lucky to get to the front door."

"He told us your dad was a part of the 'American Hunters' gang and that's why you didn't have a safe and stable childhood," Steve explained further.

Fucking Coulson.

The man managed to explain away everything about the Winchester's life without exposing the couple to the real dangers of the supernatural. He was fucking good!

"So, can I keep the gun?" Dean asked, very aware of the conversation he'd had with the foster parents his first night.

Steve and Tony shared a look. "We can put it in our storage locker until you're of legal age to own one," Steve offered. Dean nodded immediately, knowing that was the best he was going to get.

"Let's pack the rest of this stuff up, eh? You can look through everything at home with less dust and more couches. We'll start filling up the Impala then put the rest in the Cadillac," Tony said, already lifting one of the boxes.

Looking at the boxes of mementos, Dean realized that his father cared much more than he thought he did, keeping such insignificant treasures from the boys' childhood showing how sentimental the hardened man truly was.

Picking up a box of his own, Dean smiled and started to fill in the picture of who John Winchester was.


	47. Chapter 47

"Hey, how did the treasure hunt go?" Clint asked when his father's opened the door from the garage.

Steve smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "It wasn't a treasure hunt, darling. You know we went to that storage locker."

"Well yeah, but treasure hunt sounds cooler," the-thirteen-year old grinned cheekily.

Tony laughed as he took off his coat and hung it in the hall closet. "It sure does, bud! Hey, do us a favour and get your brothers and sister in Papa's office for us, okay?"

Clint groaned dramatically and made his way to the staircase. "You know we all have phones for a reason right?" he called out.

"Tony, are we really doing this now?" Steve asked his husband.

"No better time, honeybunch. Sam and Dean are going to be distracted by looking through those boxes and aren't going to notice us talking with the others." Tony explained, rising on his tiptoes to kiss the soldier's cheek.

"How'd you get so smart?" Steve pondered sarcastically, wrapping his arms around the smaller man, giving him a true kiss this time.

"Genetics. Come on, Steve, you know that." Tony laughed when the love of his life started ticking him in retaliation.

"A little help here?"

The men froze when they heard Dean's voice from behind the garage door. "Sorry, darling," Steve called out and opened the door to find the brother's arms full of boxes.

"You can put them all in the main living room if you want. Then once everything is inside you can look through everything." Tony suggested, taking one of the heavier boxes from Sam and helping him set it on the coffee table.

"We really wish we could help you unload all of this, but something came up while we were out and we need to take care of it," Steve lied. Tony barely restrained himself from laughing at the Captain and his awful poker face, it was a good thing the boys weren't paying attention as they called out their "okays" and went to retrieve more boxes.

Making their way upstairs to Steve's office, the soldier stopped, pulling his husband close once more. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his lips inches from Tony's.

Tony closed the gap between them and pulled away, smiling. "As sure as the day I married you."

Clint had done his job and he, as well as Thor, Bruce and Natasha were milling in their father's office when they arrived.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked, head coming up from a book he'd taken from the Captain's shelves.

"Yeah, where's Sam and Dean?" Clint sat straighter in the chair he was occupying, swinging his legs from around the armrest.

"Everything is fine." Steve raised his arms in a 'calm down' motion, moving to take a seat behind his desk, with Tony following behind.

"Why have you called us?" Thor asked. Natasha raised an eyebrow in her own form of questioning.

"It's nothing bad," Tony assured the kids, sitting on the edge of the massive desk beside Steve. "We just want to check-in."

The siblings took a collective sigh of relief.

"We know that things haven't exactly been easy since bringing Sam and Dean in, and we want to make sure everyone is still okay," Steve explained further.

"You're not thinking of sending them away are you?" Clint asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"No!" The parents almost shouted in an attempt to calm the boy.

"No, we're not thinking of doing anything like that," Tony stated. "But, we know the stress hasn't been great for everybody, so we just want to see how everyone is doing."

The parents looked around the room, observing their kids.

"Thor? Why don't you start?" Steve prompted.

"I fear for how our newest siblings might have fared had we not welcomed them into our home." The usually bubbly man was subdued in his report, bracing himself on the back of Clint's chair. "They must not be placed in such situations again, and I will keep them from harm in whichever way that I can."

"So you're okay with them staying for a long time," Tony summarized, smiling at the nod their eldest gave. "Nat? I know you've been having a tough time."

The seventeen-year-old furled her eyebrows in thought for a moment, before pulling out her phone and shooting Tony a text.

The man opened his phone and wordlessly asked if he could read the message out loud, which Natasha answered with a nod.

"I've had some setbacks. I've had them before and I'll have them again. The reason for them is irrelevant and I know that Sam and Dean leaving would do so much more harm than good. They stay," Tony read for the others.

Steve smiled at their girl, reaching across the desk to squeeze her hand before returning it to the armrest of his chair. "Bruce?" he called out.

"They fit perfectly into the family dynamic. Any attempt to remove them wouldn't be advised and would result in major problems," the man said from his position leaning against a bookcase. "They're my little brothers. I want them to stay."

Steve and Tony were beaming with pride and joy at the emotional output Bruce shared, but knew not to linger on it. "And how about you?" Steve asked, looking pointedly at Clint.

"Yeah, it's been stressful," the boy admitted, looking at his lap. "But, Dad, Papa, I think they need us. They're our brothers, and they need our support. I don't want them to leave where we can't be there for them."

Tony quickly stood up and knelt by the thirteen-year-old. "Hey, don't you worry about that. What did we say earlier, huh? They aren't going anywhere. In fact-" the man paused and glanced back towards his husband. "How would all of you feel if we invited them to stay permanently?"

"You mean...adopt them?" Clint asked, eyes wide again, but for a very different reason.

The four kids took in the joyful faces of their parents. Steve and Tony raised their eyebrows as they silently asked the kids their thoughts on the subject.

"I say we do it," Nat whispered, earning her a huge smile and a hand on her knee from Tony.

"Anyone else?" Steve asked the room.

The soldier's question was met with a resounding affirmation.

* * *

"Look at this one, Sam!" Dean laughed, finding a picture of a young Sam, presumably having his first bath.

"I have like, one naked picture of me. You have like twenty!" the boy responded, laughing as well. The brothers were pulled from their musings with the arrival of the rest of the Stark clan.

"Hey guys, mind if we join you?" Bruce asked, taking a seat on one of the armchairs.

"Yeah, sure!" Sam replied, opening another one of the boxes. "Dean!" he gasped, pulling out an object. "My soccer trophy!"

"Woah!" Dean leaned in to look at it. "That was what, three years ago?"

"Yeah! And dad kept it!" Sam was smiling ear to ear as he stared at that trophy, no doubt remembering the day he'd gotten it.

"Hate to tell ya, kid, but you sucked at soccer," Dean laughed.

Sticking out his tongue at his brother, Sam still cradled the piece of plastic and metal. "It wasn't about the sport. It was the fact that we stuck around long enough for me to finish the season with the team," the boy explained. Dean stopped laughing.

"You guys moved around a lot, huh?" Tony asked softly.

"Yeah. It wasn't great, but…" Sam shrugged as he trailed off.

"How are you faring, young scholar?" Thor asked, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "With the demise of your father."

Sam put renewed interest in the trophy as he shrugged again, quiet for a moment. "I mean, we haven't seen him in like, two years. I–" He took a breath. "I'm sad, obviously, but, I guess, I sort of knew he wasn't coming back."

"What?" Dean exclaimed. "You were convinced he was out there! Like, two months ago you asked when he was getting us!"

"Well...I don't know," Sam admitted. "When Mr. Coulson told us, it just...made sense."

Dean didn't know how to respond. The room lay silent until Clint reached for the picture Dean had dropped of Sam in the bath.

"And which one of you is this?" he asked, bringing back the jolly atmosphere.

While Sam showed the others what they'd already discovered, Tony gestured to Dean to come with him to the kitchen. Confused, Dean followed, sparing a glance behind him at his foster siblings rifling through his father's things.

"What's this about?" the teen asked as he and the two men sat around the breakfast table. Dean was very aware of how much this resembled their conversation just a few weeks earlier.

"There's something we want to talk to you about." Tony smiled, side-eyeing his husband and nearly bouncing off his seat.

Steve, on the other hand, was perfectly still, lacing his fingers together on the table and beaming at their son. "We have a proposition for you," he stated.

"What?!" Dean panicked, remembering the last 'proposition' the three had talked about.

The men realized their poor phrasing when the teen startled and pushed away from the table. "NO! God no! Not that!" they assured him.

"Let's try that again." Steve offered. "How would feel about officially becoming our son?"

Dean furled his eyebrows in confusion, looking between the two men to try and understand what they were talking about. Steve and Tony waited patiently while the boy worked it out, smiling even wider when Dean's eyes widened comically.

"You mean, you mean you want to adopt me?" the boy whispered, in awe.

Tony grabbed his husband's hand and squeezed in excitement. "You betcha! And Sam, of course. Now, we realize this isn't the best time what with just coming back from your dad's funeral and looking through his things, but Dean," the engineer paused, leaning towards the teen, "we've known we wanted you to stay since your first time sparring with Steve."

Dean thought for a moment, doing the math in his head. "But, that was like, three weeks after we came here," he realized, astonished. "You've wanted us since then?"

"Every day," Steve confirmed. "You don't have to accept, do whatever you feel comfortable doing, but know that if that's something you want, we're just waiting to sign the papers."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but floundered for the words.

Tony reached out and stroked the teen's arm. "You don't have to decide now, take all the time you need and talk to Sam about it. If you don't want to that's perfectly fine and we'll respect your decision, we're just asking you to think about it."

"And– and if I say no?" Dean dropped his head and peered at the couple through his eyelashes.

"Then nothing has to change. You'll still be like our son, just not officially," Steve answered.

The teen nodded, eyebrows pinched together, heavy with thought. "I– I have to think about it," he finally responded.

"Of course, Dean. Take your time." Tony smiled and squeezed the boy's arm in reassurance.

With his head still trained to the ground, Dean slowly got up from the table and made his way to return to his siblings. Before stepping through the door, he turned back towards the couple. "Steve?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Um, you said if I feel I need to spar more just to ask you, and–"

"Of course, love. Let me know when you're ready and we'll spar all you need to." The man smiled, proud that Dean had the courage to ask for what he needed.

With a small nod, the teen left, leaving the couple to an empty kitchen and the sounds of their kids through the walls.

"Holy shit. Steve, we need to get Dr. Mills a fucking fruit basket," Tony commented, noting how open the teen had been in knowing how he was feeling and conveying that effectively to his foster parents. Whether or not Dean knew it, the therapy sessions were working wonderfully for the boy.

"A huge one," Steve agreed.

"Fucking massive."

The men stared at the empty doorway, remembering the closed off boy they took in, and how far he'd come to being who he was meant to be.


	48. Chapter 48

The boxes of John's things had been stored in one of the many guest bedrooms until the brothers could decide what to do with them. This didn't stop the boys from thinking about the sentimental objects, though. Both laying in bed after bringing everything home, Sam and Dean were quiet. They knew the other was awake, but they lamented in the silence and just revealed in the dark about everything they'd learned.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean whispered, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam whispered back.

"I– Steve and Tony talked to me today."

"And?"

"And– and they," Dean paused. How could he put into words that Sam could now officially be a part of the perfect family? "They told me something."

"Come on, Dean, spit it out!" Sam goaded. Neither had moved to face the other, Sam staring at the ceiling and Dean with his face pressed into his pillow.

"They want to adopt you." The teen waited with bated breath for how Sam would respond.

The boy was quiet.

"Did you hear me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I heard you, Dean," Sam whispered.

"So? Are you gonna accept?"

"Do they want to adopt you too?" he asked in response.

Baffled, Dean replied: "Yeah."

"Are you going to accept?"

"I haven't decided yet," the teen answered. "Come on, Sam, are you gonna let them adopt you or what?"

"No."

"What?" Dean lifted his head to look at the shadowy form of the ten-year-old. "Why not? You're already calling them–"

"If– if I decided to stay, you'd just leave again."

"What?"

"Like you did after dad died," the boy explained, never once removing his gaze from the ceiling. "You're gonna leave me."

"Now why would you say that, Sammy?"

"Dad always told you to look after me and now that he's gone…"

"Hey," Dean sat up further, throwing the blanket off. "I didn't look out for you because dad told me to. You're my little brother. I'll always be here for you, Sammy. You know that."

Sam finally turned his head to look at his hero. "But will you stay?"

"I promise." Dean put every ounce of sincerity he had into the words.

The younger boy stared intently at the teen, knowing that he could spot any lie his brother gave. Finally, Sam smiled. "Then yeah. I think I am gonna let them adopt me."

Dean responded with his own huge smile. "That's awesome, Sam! I'm really happy for you!"

Returning his gaze to the ceiling, Sam blushed and remained silent.

Dean once more pulled the covers up and settled down to enjoy the easy quiet.

"Dean?" Sam whispered once more.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you want to get adopted?"

Dean's breath froze in his chest. "Well, I– I don't–"

"This isn't like the other times, right, Dean?" the boy asked.

"What? What other times?" the teen's face pinched together in confusion.

"Steve and Tony don't hurt you like the others, right?"

Dean's body surged straight up in his bed and stared again at the dark silhouette of his brother. Sam was completely calm.

"How did you–"

"I didn't," Sam interrupted. "But you just confirmed it. I figured it out a while ago, but never had any proof. I'm pretty smart, Dean."

Tears were beginning to form in the teen's eyes. He hadn't managed to protect Sam from anything after all. Everything he did was for nothing."Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, forcing down the lump in his throat.

"I didn't want to believe it. My big brother getting hurt to protect me? Why would I want to accept that?" Sam scoffed, the darkness making him brave in the face of everything in their past. "I also knew that if it were true, you'd be too selfless to fight back. You put up a good front, but you're a teddy bear at heart, Dean. I knew you would only fight back if I was in danger, so I tempted them," Sam explained under his breath. Dean had to strain to hear the confession.

"What do you mean 'you tempted them'?" Dean asked slowly, hoping to god that his little brother didn't do what he was thinking.

"I acted out in front of them. Did stupid stuff," Sam shrugged, obviously oblivious to the implications he gave his brother. "I thought if they wanted to hit me, I'd have my proof and we'd get out of there."

"Did they?" the teen asked urgently, needing to know if he completely failed in protecting his little brother.

"Never," Sam responded quickly. "Not once."

Dean sighed in relief, the tension left his shoulders instantly. "Thank god," he whispered under his breath. "So, you really suspected this whole time?"

"Well, after the third place with the couple that smelled of cigarettes. But, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, wishing that his brother would just look at him already.

"Because I didn't want to see that my hero was being used as a punching bag. I also knew how you would react if I ever asked; you would feel like you failed to protect me." Finally, the ten-year-old turned his head to face the teen. "It's how you're feeling now, isn't it?"

Startled, Dean replied, "How did you–"

"I talked to Dr. Mills a lot about telling you. We worked out why I didn't want to tell you in the first place and she told me you were going to find out eventually, so why not just get it over with?" Sam returned his gaze to the ceiling.

"Dr. Mills?"

"Yeah, I see her too, Dean. I guess you forgot." the boy shrugged.

"I thought all the shrinks said you were normal," Dean pointed out. "That you had no idea what was going on."

Sam looked at his brother for a moment and winked. "You're not the only one that can fool a doctor, Dean. Dr. Mills was just the first one to see through me."

"So I didn't end up protecting you from anything," Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. _Of-fucking-course you can't even do your one job right._

"Yes, Dean. Of course you did." Sam sat up and pushed his blankets to the side. "I don't know what it's like to be hungry or beaten, or locked in a closet," he added, giving Dean a pointed look.

"You knew about that?" Dean asked sheepishly.

"Why do you think I'm the one that opened the door every time you 'couldn't find your other shoe'?" Sam asked, rhetorically. "I have an idea about what you went through, but I don't know what it feels like. And that, to me, is a win, Dean. You're the reason my nightmares are not being able to save you, instead of being the one lying in my own blood. _You saved me from that._"

The boy, seeming much older than his years, stood from his bed and in front of his protector. "Dad would be proud of you, Dean. Steve and Tony are proud of you. Hell, you're my fricken hero, Dean. I know you hate chick-flick moments, but you're my big brother. And I love you."

A single tear traced itself down Dean's face, revealing how much the teen needed to hear the affirmation. Quickly wiping it off, he smiled at Sam. "I know. Now go back to bed, bitch. I don't want to hear you complain about you not getting enough beauty sleep tomorrow morning."

Sam smiled, not surprised in the slightest that the teen brushed off any trace of emotion with a joke. "Yeah, yeah all right."

Climbing back into his bed, Sam returned his gaze to the ceiling and listened as Dean once again collapsed down into his own, face smashed against his pillow. The two were once again bathed in quiet.

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean whispered, barely loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam smiled, and replied, "I know."


	49. Chapter 49

The Stark family were gathered in the kitchen for their regular morning chaos, (read: breakfast) when Sam raised his hand hesitantly in an awkward attempt to get their attention.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Steve smiled, giving Sam the floor to speak.

"Um," the boy dropped his hand quickly and stared at his plate before speaking. "Dean told me last night that you want to adopt me?"

The parents glanced at each other silently, then Tony rested his elbows on the table, leaning towards Sam. "And? What do you think about that?"

"I–I think I'd really like that," Sam whispered, glancing up at Tony through his bangs with a small smile.

The engineer greeted him back with a huge smile of his own. "Yeah?" he asked, just make sure.

"Yeah," the boy responded, his smile grew bigger as he saw the excitement in Tony's face.

"Oh, Sam!" Steve stood quickly and raced around the table to meet his son in a passionate hug, the man holding back tears of joy.

Dean hunched himself over the stove as he flipped another pancake. He was happy for Sam, he really was. If there was anyone in the whole world that deserved a loving family it was his little brother, but he couldn't help feeling like one of them was making a mistake. His thoughts were sidelined when Clint decided to tackle the teen in a hug, making Dean lift the hot pan out of the way quickly to avoid burning the boy.

"Woah! Carefully there, bud! Hot element here!" he chastised the blond. He couldn't be too upset though, when Clint looked up at him with sparkling blue eyes.

"Sorry, Dean! I just got so excited! You're gonna be my real big brother now!"

The kitchen fell silent.

"Um, actually bud," Dean put the pan on a cool element and turned off the stove before crouching down to look Clint in the eye. "I haven't decided if I want to be adopted yet."

"You don't want to be in our family?"

"Of course I do, buddy!" Dean quickly reassured the boy, placing his hands on his little brother's shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere. I just–I don't know if I'm ready to let go of my dad just yet," he admitted for the first time.

The subject was dropped quickly when Natasha pulled her brother aside to lecture him on 'subtly, which I highly doubt you have an ounce of in your entire body'.

Dropping a quick kiss to Sam's head, Steve headed to talk to Dean and leave the rest of the family to congratulate and welcome their newest member.

"Look, I'm not saying no, I just–" Dean began, renewing his interest in the forgotten pancakes.

"Hey, it's okay. Like we said yesterday, we have all the time in the world," Steve assured the teen, giving him a warm smile. "However, there is another thing I'd like to talk to you about." The soldier leaned casually against the counter while giving Dean a teasing look. "Your birthday is coming up."

Dean blinked in surprise. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it is. Well, Tony said you two were giving me a car, but then we got the Impala and-"

"We'll think of another gift, Dean, no problem. With Tony's money, you could literally ask for anything less than an island and it wouldn't even put a dent in your college fund." Steve chuckled. "I actually wanted to talk to you about your party."

"My–my what?" Dean floundered.

"Your birthday party. We're thinking of doing a small thing for just the family on the actual day, but maybe do a bigger thing the weekend before? You could invite all of your friends from school and maybe Mr. Wilson if you're on better terms now…" the man trailed off.

"I–I don't have any friends," Dean shook his head.

"Really? Not one?"

"When you have secrets to hide, you learn not to let anyone close enough to care," the teen snapped.

"Fair enough," Steve calmly replied, not rising to the boy's bait. "Anyone else you'd like to invite?"

* * *

"Really, Steve? The man who abandoned the kids that called him 'Uncle'? The man that never went five minutes without a beer in his hand at the funeral? The man that probably gave Dean codeine? The man that's in a frickin' biker gang?!"

"Tony!" Steve grabbed his husband's shoulders, interrupting the man's rant. "Trust me, I know. But he was the _only_ one Dean wanted to invite to his birthday party. Literally the only one. Do you know he _still_ hasn't made any friends at school?"

"I'll buy him friends! Anything but–"

"Tony! You can't just throw money at your–"

"Come on! How about I get some celebrity kids here instead? Angelina still owes me from–"

"No! You know how much he means to–"

"We are not letting him near our kids!"

Tony's words hung over a silent room as the two took deep breaths to calm themselves.

"Tony–"

"No! We are not exposing him to our home and endangering our other kids just because Dean wants his drug supply open."

Steve gave the engineer a warning look. "Tony, _don't_. We talked about this."

Sighing, Tony flopped on the huge bed and ran his hands over his face. "I know. I'm sorry. Just because I have a drug problem–"

"Doesn't mean that Dean does too," Steve finished. Walking over to the bed, Steve crawled over top of his husband, resting on his elbows to look down at the genius. "I think we should at least talk to the man. You said how he was pretty much a father figure to the boys, right? How he even taught them to throw a baseball?"

Throwing his arms out above him in a display of dramatics, Tony groaned. "Why can't he come to us?" he whined.

"Because our son wants him _now_, so we're gonna be the first to extend the olive branch."

"Stupid fucking olive branch. Could make some expensive ass meals with it instead but no, just have to offer it to–"

"Tony…" Steve warned the man once more.

"Fine! Fine, we'll call the fucking gang member and invite him into our home to corrupt our children and turn them all to drug addicts." Tony ignored the eye-roll the blonde gave him in preference to pout spread eagle on his king-sized bed with his gorgeous husband hovering above him. Realizing their position, the engineer smirked and ran a hand underneath Steve's shirt to cup the soldier's perfect pecs. "You know, since I was such a good boy–"

"Ha! That's what you call good?" Steve laughed. "Fucking brat is what you were!"

"Then maybe I need a punishment," Tony wiggled his eyebrows in innuendo.

Groaning, Steve dropped his head to his husband's chest. "No. We're gonna call Mr. Singer before we do anything and you manage to talk me out of it.

"Are you sure I can't talk you into something right now?" Tony pinched a nipple tightly and suddenly, earning a yelp and another groan from the blond.

"No, Tony," Steve sat up, pulling away from the man's touch. "We're calling him now."

"But I don't want to!" Tony whined again. "I wanna have sweaty, athletic sex with my hunk of a husband and not invite a potential lunatic into our lives!"

"How about this: we call him and ask him questions, then if we feel it's safe enough for him to be near the kids, we invite him on a trial basis to Dean's party," Steve offered.

"Then we have sweaty, athletic sex?"

Grinning, Steve leaned back down and kissed Tony deeply, leaving the brunet panting when he pulled away again. "Then we have sweaty, athletic sex," he confirmed.


	50. Chapter 50

"Do we really need to–"

"Yes, Tony, we're doing this for Dean," Steve interrupted, answering the question for the fifth fuckin' time. Steve held both the receipt with Bobby Singer's number on it and his cell phone in the other hand, his husband draped across his back blowing in his ear. "Stop it, love. Later, I promise."

Sighing dramatically, Tony lightly bit Steve's ear in defiance before resting his head on the man's shoulder.

Steve kissed the genius' head with a chuckle and dialled the number.

The men held their breath as the line began to ring.

"Hello?"

Steve and Tony looked to each other and it was abundantly clear that they had absolutely _no_ plan whatsoever. _Again._

"Hello?" the gruff man repeated into the phone.

"Um–yes hello, Mr. Singer," Steve stumbled.

"Who is this?" Bobby spat.

"This is Tony and Steve Stark, Sam and Dean's foster parents," Tony answered quickly, not wanting the man to hang up again. "We met at John's funeral, I believe."

The line was silent.

"What can I do for you," Bobby finally spoke.

"We–well we have a few questions we'd like to ask you, sir," Steve replied. "About the boys."

"Why don't you ask_ them_?"

Tony's eyes widened when he heard the unmistakable sound of a drinking glass on the other line when the man spoke.

"Because getting those boys to tell us anything relevant is like pulling teeth," the engineer spat back, trying to ignore the thought that this man was drinking on the other line while talking about the boys.

"Well, they must have a good reason not to tell you then."

"Excuse me? Are you insinuating that they shouldn't trust us?" Tony's voice raised with his anger.

"I ain't sayin' anythin' of the sort, Stark, calm down, just that there are things that you don't necessarily need to know."

"Really? I don't need to know that our sons were abused?"

Steve snapped his head to stare at his husband with wide eyes. '_What are you doing?_' he mouthed, '_We weren't going to tell him!_'

"...abused?" Bobby grunted.

Tony ignored the man next to him.

"Yeah, not like you were keeping any kind of tabs on them, but those boys have been through things no child would even dream of," he raised a hand to cut off whatever placating words Steve was going to use to reassure the man.

"Not by John, right?" Bobby asked quietly.

"We're not sure about that. Possibly," Steve answered at the same time Tony replied with "Probably."

"So then, the other foster homes," Bobby concluded.

"Eight different ones," Tony confirmed, his voice icy.

"Dean didn't try to contact me until he was already with the two of you."

"I think we both know that Dean isn't one to look for help when he feels he can handle a situation," Steve interjected. "Although, why didn't you attempt to take them in when their father disappeared? Did you know CPS had them?"

A sigh. "Yeah, I knew. Those boys deserve better than an old coot like me takin' care of 'em. I thought, hey, there's a chance they'll get a white picket fence, why not let them at least try?" More distinct sounds of glass moving on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Singer, if we are to continue this discussion, we will do so with you sober," Tony snapped. "I highly doubt that you're pouring yourself iced tea."

"What's got your panties in a twist, Stark? Stock Market drop a whole point?" Bobby scoffed.

"No, my _silk_ panties are in a _twist_ because my foster sons are connected to a potentially dangerous man, my husband is withholding sex from me until we finish this assinine conversation and you are having a fucking drink when I would kill for a shot of vodka." Steve shot Tony a worried look, rubbing the man's back in comfort.

A pause. "I read about your stints in rehab, Mr. Stark. I trust I don't have to worry about them boys being at the other end of an empty bottle." The words were heavy with implication.

"I would _never_–" Tony began.

"Tony hasn't touched alcohol in years, Mr. Singer, I assure you," Steve interrupted.

Another pause with the sound of more glass clinking. "Alright. The whiskey's gone, Stark. Ask your questions."

"Are Sam and Dean going to be in trouble for leaving your… 'way of life'?" Steve blurted out.

Tony slowly rotated his head to stare at his idiotic husband, to which the man smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"Our 'way of life'?" Bobby repeated. "And what do you think our 'way of life" is, Mr. Stark?"

"Phil Coulson told us John was in a biker gang," Tony explained.

"The same Phil Coulson that called us for the funeral?"

"The same," the engineer confirmed.

The couple jumped in surprise when Bobby began to laugh, hard.

"Either he's a genius or he's an idiot," the gruff voice murmured, still chuckling. "Alright. No, Sam and Dean are not going to be in danger for 'leaving' our 'way of life'. With our...gang... anyone can come and go as they wish. Doesn't mean that when they get older the things they know aren't gonna bite them in the ass though."

"What does that mean?" Steve asked.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to," was the quick response. "I wouldn't worry about that though. They've got good heads on their shoulders and wouldn't do anything stupid."

"Do you know how Dean got hurt a month ago?" Tony asked, not pleased with the evasive answers they were getting.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell us?" Tony pressed, getting more and more agitated.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."

"For fucks–"

"But it did have something to do with the gang," Steve interjected.

"Yes. Next question," Bobby evaded.

Tony huffed and made a 'wtf' face at Steve. Steve responded by raising his hands in a 'calm down' gesture.

"Did you give him the codeine?"Tony asked, finally getting to ask the question he'd been waiting for.

"Codeine? Nope. Probably got it from another guy who was too stupid to know not to give a teenager fuckin' codeine. Unfortunately not all our guys are geniuses. Any other questions?"

"Is there anything you think we should know?" Steve answered the man.

Quiet.

"Yeah," Bobby said after a moment. "John wasn't the best father figure when Mary died. He put Dean in charge of Sam, not just 'looking out for him', but the boy basically raised his little brother on his own. Dean deserves a chance to just… be a kid."

"Their mother died when Dean was four…" Steve started.

"Yup. Poor kid's never had a childhood."

The line fell quiet as Steve and Tony held a conversation with their eyes, both agreeing in the end.

"Mr. Singer, we have one more question for you," Steve started.

"Shoot."

"If we were to invite you to our home to celebrate Dean's birthday, would you bring any drugs, alcohol or violence with you?" the soldier finished.

"You're–you're invitin' me for the kid's birthday?" the voice lost some of its edge, slipping into a soft tone.

"Dean wants you there," Tony explained. "But there's no way in hell you're stepping foot on the property if you're a danger to the kids."

"No. No, I would not bring any drugs or alcohol or cause any sort of ruckus if I were invited," the man promised. "You have my word."

Steve and Tony shared a wary smile, before telling 'Uncle Bobby' the date and time.


	51. Chapter 51

Dean woke to the feeling of being watched.

Drawing on his training, he fought the instinct to tense, staying perfectly still and relaxed as he took stock of his surroundings. Slowly opening one eye, the teen just about jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus, Sammy!" Dean threw a pillow at his little brother, who was staring at the teen not two feet from his face.

"Happy birthday, Dean!" Sam smiled and batted the pillow away easily.

"Thanks, dude." Dean smiled back and covered his head in the blankets. "Now go away."

"But Deeeeean," the ten-year-old whined and poked the burrito blanket. "Papa said they're making crepes! They won't let us have any until you're awake!"

"Well, it looks like y'all are gonna starve."

"Dean!"

"Ugh, fine bitch." Still half asleep, the teen made his way downstairs with Sam doing a perfect impersonation of a puppy dog trailing behind. Dean was woefully unprepared for the wall of smiles greeting him in the kitchen, his heart jolted in panic as everyone rushed over to give their well wishes.

Stepping back, he held out an arm in defence, his eyes scanning for potential threats. Ever observant, Clint narrowly avoided Dean's swinging arm and wrapped himself around the teen's middle.

"Happy birthday, Dean!" the thirteen-year-old looked up with wide eyes and a brilliant smile. Dean, however, was fighting the knee-jerk reaction to slam his fist over the boy's head.

"Thanks, bud," he whispered, carefully pushing his younger foster brother away.

"Alright, give the birthday boy some space everyone. Back to the table!" Tony called out in a teasing voice, though both he and Steve noticed the unabridged panic in the teen's face.

"You okay?" Sam whispered as the brothers followed the other siblings to the table already ladened with food.

Dean smiled. "Yeah, 'course I am. Look at all the food!"

Steve and Tony brought over huge stacks of crepes, immediately drawing the attention of the siblings.

"You good? Need a minute?" Tony whispered as he brushed past the teen.

Dean thought for a second, making sure to breathe evenly. "Yeah. Yeah, it's just a lot, ya know?"

The engineer rubbed a hand briefly over the boy's shoulders. "I getcha. Want us to take the attention off you for a bit?"

Dean nodded minutely, grateful that the man understood.

Throughout breakfast, both Steve and Tony skillfully drew the conversation away from the boy, letting him have the time to quiet his heart and mind.

"Dean! Are you excited for your party tonight?"

_Well, they did their best._

"Uh," the teen sputtered. "Yeah, I mean, I can't remember ever having one before, so I guess?"

"My first one was with Dad and Papa too! They let me invite all my friends over and Dad surprised me with a bouncy castle and there was a photo booth and-"

"Clint, calm down, you're scaring Dean," Bruce shushed, giving Dean a small smile. "Dad and Papa know how to throw parties. As in, every party is tailored for that person. Clint gets a carnival, Nat gets the Russian ballet, Thor gets huge bonfires and I have a quiet dinner at home," he explained, watching Clint stuff his face with more food and nodding frantically.

"We're only going to do what we talked about, okay Dean?" Steve began, getting Dean's attention. "No surprises, I promise."

Dean nodded and smirked, turning to look at Tony who's fork was halfway to his mouth.

"What?" Tony asked, confused with the attention.

"Do you promise no surprises?" Dean asked.

With a dramatic sigh, the man placed his right hand on his heart, with the unfortunate side effect of splattering syrup on his shirt. "I solemnly swear not to have any surprises today, even though they would be totally awesome."

Rolling his eyes, Dean returned his gaze to his plate. "Thanks, guys."

"Is Uncle Bobby still coming?" Sam asked.

"Last we heard, Sweetheart," Steve responded.

"I can't wait to show him everything! It's been so long since we saw him, and even at Dad's funeral we only talked for a little bit."

"What's he like?" Clint asked the boy.

The rest of the table thoroughly distracted, Steve took the chance to get Dean's attention. "Hey, I know this is a lot, do you need to call Dr. Mills?" he whispered.

Shaking his head, Dean ducked his head to hide his blush.

"Okay. Tony and I had an idea last night, though. If at any point to need to step away for any reason, we could have a code word that would let us know to draw the attention from you so no one would notice. What do you think?" the man asked, gaze unwavering.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good," Dean nodded. "How about… um… what about 'pudding'?"

Nodding seriously, Steve replied, "Pudding it is," then returned to the conversation as if nothing had happened.

_Well, tonight was going to be a clusterfuck._


	52. Chapter 52

"Are you ready?"

Dean jumped away from the voice coming behind him, crouching into a defensive position immediately. Natasha merely raised her eyebrow questioningly.

"Sorry, Nat. Yeah, I'm ready," the boy shook off his nerves with a smile to the other teen.

Natasha studied Dean for a moment, silent. "It's all the attention, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The attention. The only attention you're used to is Sam's and your abusers. That's why you're on edge. You don't know how to handle it," she stated. Her voice was so unwavering that Dean truly didn't know how to react.

"Um…" he started, glancing around the empty hallway she'd cornered him in.

"That's what Dr. Hill says about me, anyways. She pointed out that we're...similar...in our pasts," Nat continued.

"Look, I don't–"

"I just want you to know that I get it."

The words: _How the fuck would you know what I've been through_ were on the tip of Dean's tongue before he saw the walls around his foster sister fall. All of her bravado left and all he saw was what he felt every damn day in those foster homes: scared and scarred.

He shut his open mouth and nodded solemnly. He and Nat were not ones to talk about their feelings, but the look that the other teen gave him? He felt like he knew everything about her and her about him.

"They in jail?" Dean asked, voice low.

She shook her head. "Never knew their names."

"I'm sorry."

"Yours?"

"Every last one."

"Dean! Uncle Bobby's here!" Sam shouted up the stairs, breaking the moment between the two teens.

Turning back toward Natasha, Dean smiled and went to follow Sam.

"Drink lots of water," she called out behind him. "It'll give you an excuse to go to the bathroom and get some space."

With one hand on the banister, Dean faced the girl once more. "Thanks, Nat."

"Uncle Bobby!" Sam shouted as he ran to hug the man.

"Let me get through the door at least," the man grumbled, returning the hug.

"Hi, Bobby."

Straightening out from the hug, Bobby saw Dean hovering on the stairs.

"Dean." Holding the boy's gaze, he raised his arms slowly, offering the teen a hug. For a moment, it seemed Dean wouldn't accept before the man was being squeezed within an inch of his life.

Hugging back with just as much force, Bobby whispered: "Happy Birthday, Dean. Your dad would've been so proud of you."

Holding back a sob, Dean simply hugged the man harder, happy that he finally got his Uncle back.

"Come on guys! Dad said we can play with the Switch before dinner!" Clint's voice rang from the living room.

With a chuckle, Dean let go of the man, giving him a small smile. "Thanks for coming, Bobby."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, kid," Bobby replied, ruffling the teen's hair.

"Ah, Mr. Singer," Steve emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. "Welcome."

Bobby nodded his head somewhat rigidly.

"Dean, why don't you help Clint set up his game while I ask your Uncle Bobby here for some help in the kitchen.

Eyeing the adults, Dean did as he was told, though obviously knew he was leaving the two to talk privately.

"I trust you kept your word?" Steve asked, his Captain voice making a strong comeback.

"Yup. No drugs, no alcohol, no weapons," Bobby assured the man.

"And I trust you know that until we know you better, your word isn't going to be enough," Steve raised an eyebrow, knowingly.

"Search away," the other man grumbled, raising his arms to let the man feel for himself that he was unarmed. After a quick and thorough search, Steve smiled sheepishly.

"I apologize, but you understand a father's protectiveness."

"Yeah, yeah, with me being from a 'biker gang' and all," Bobby scoffed.

"We _would_ like your help in the kitchen if you could lend a hand."

"To interrogate me some more?"

"Why else?" Steve smiled. "Although this time I swear it's not about you, it's about Sam and Dean."

Following the blond into the kitchen, Bobby scanned the room, spotting Tony at the counter.

"Hey there, tall, dark and dangerous!" Tony waved. "He good?" he asked Steve, who nodded. "Good. Now, first thing's first." Tony put down the knife he was holding and looked Bobby straight in the eye.

"You try to bring those kids back into your 'world' and they will not find your body. Got it?"

Bobby blinked in surprise at the fierceness burning in the short man's body. "Got it."

"Good. Secondly: _thank you_."

Bobby blinked in surprise again. "What?"

Steve rested his hand on his husband's shoulder and smiled. "The boys told us how you looked out for them, helped raise them. Especially Dean. So we want to thank you."

Tony squeezed Steve's hand and poured every ounce of gratitude into his next words. "Thank you for taking care of our boys before _we_ could."

Dean heard Bobby flounder from his hiding spot in the doorway. He'd never heard the man speechless before.

"It's an understatement to say that those boys are the brightest light this world's got. If I could raise them myself I absolutely would be proud to call them my own. But because I can't, I'm sure as hell glad they found the two of you."

Dean choked on his breath when he heard his Uncle's sincerity. Biting back tears, he tuned out the rest of the adult's conversation and made his way back to the rambunctious siblings in the living room fighting for turns with the video game.

When Steve placed the cake in front of him that night, Dean looked around at the faces singing 'Happy Birthday' around him. From his oldest companion and little brother to the alcoholic who remade himself for love.

As he blew out the candles and welcomed in his fifteenth year, he knew that he wanted to let go of the past and move forward with the mismatched family that took him in.

He was going to get adopted.

* * *

As Dean blew out the candles, Tony clung to Steve's side and looked at their son's face in awe. He didn't know if this was the first time the boy had candles to blow, but he knew it wouldn't be the last. Drawn from his musings, he felt a buzz from his pocket.

"Steve," he whispered, looking at the screen in shock.

"Hmm?" the man responded, looking away from the recording he was taking on his phone.

_"Loki is cleared to come home."_

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much for joining me in this adventure! I've loved each and every comment and favourite it's gotten and I can not thank you all enough! This isn't the last time you'll see the brothers in this universe, there's already a one-shot written and a sequel in the works, so stay tuned for future stories!


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